A Gift (Card) for Someone Special
by Swanandapirate
Summary: Killian owns the local coffeehouse "A Cup of Jones" and business is going well. A blonde woman sets foot in his establishment and she fascinates him. Will he figure her out or is that to hard to do?
1. Winter Song

**A/N: This is my last entry for my writing week. I've posted it before but then I deleted again, but now it's back. I had an absolute blast writing all of my stories, which you can read on my profile, and I hope someone, besides myself, might've enjoyed them too. If you'd like to come by to talk or leave a prompt, go ahead :)** **  
Disclaimer: After writing 7 of these I should be more confident, but I'm not. I have no idea if these stories were/are any good.**

The first signs of winter become noticeable. It has always been Killian's least favorite season.

Days get darker, animals seek shelter and disappear and mornings are icy and cold. He really doesn't understand the appeal of snow. It always mixes with some kind of dirt turns into a filthy drab.

Much to Killian's dismay, winter is actually the time that they get the most customers, so it's not like he can stay inside of his apartment and never come out

He owns a coffeehouse named "A Cup of Jones".

It is a joke that his brother kept on making when Killian told he wanted to open one. His brother was very enthusiastic and became the prime investor.

And money means power, so that's what he used to name the cafe.

Killian has to admit that the name has grown on him and every time a client makes a comment, Killian just answers that he loves his older brother very much.

One of the only perks of winter is that customers are more prone to stay inside and actually talk to one another than to order, receive and leave. He has worked so hard to create a cozy environment and it warms his heart when people meet here.

The morning rush is crazy today and because Aurora has taken her leave this week, Killian had to hire a temporary help.

Tinka is a very social person and is very good with the clientele, but her skills behind the register could improve.

"If you'd like to wait for just a second, I'll call... Killian!" Tinka says.

He leaves the bag of beans for what it is and walks towards the bar.

"Yes, lass. What seems to be the problem?"

Tinka turns towards him and softly tells him:

"The woman here has two separate gift cards and she'd like to combine them to pay her order. How do I do that?"

"I'll take over. I'll explain it to you later. You can refill the Colombian beans." Tinka leaves and Killian turns towards the blonde lady.

"Good day, I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"No problem," she answers.

He taps in his employee code and processes her order.

"So, that was two hot chocolates, two cupcakes, and four bagels, right?" he says while looking at the order list.

She answers positively and hands him her gift cards.

"I hardly ever sell gift cards; how come you have two?"

"My two best friends have been saying that I needed to come to this place for ages and I never did. So they figured that giving me those as a present would do the trick."

"It seems their little plan had a positive outcome."

He smiles at her and hands her one of the cards back and her complete order.

"We'll see how your hot chocolate is. I won't judge before that. Do you have cinnamon by any chance?" she says while searchingly looking around.

"Don't worry, the chocolate is divine. You can find cinnamon on the table right behind you."

The woman turns around and nods approvingly.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome. Enjoy it and we would love to see you back."

The people who come into "A Cup of Jones" are usually regulars and Killian knows their orders and the time they come in by heart.

You have Belle, who comes in to drink a chamomile tea everyday right before her toddler reading session in the library, and Elsa, who drinks ice coffee all year round.

There is also Will. It is very surprising that he, as a Brit, drinks that much Irish coffee.  
Actually, never mind. It isn't that surprising when you meet him.

Ruby likes the strongest coffee that they have, Ella drinks caramel macchiatos and the list goes on.

Nearly every new client he has had, has eventually become a regular and when the blonde haired lass returns after about a week, he knows.

She's hooked.

"Glad to see you back, lass. I take it you liked the hot chocolate?"

"I might've. I'm here to finish my card."

"Do you want another hot chocolate?"

She shakes her head.

"Nope, I would like a large cup of coffee with a quarter of milk, to go, please."

She hands him her card. Aurora is back and they hired Tinka half time, so she gets her coffee fast. He tries to capture her attention because she is very busy with her phone.

"There are still twenty cents left on here," he says, while she is taking her cup.

"Keep it." She puts her phone against her ear and walks out of the café.

"Bye," Killian shouts at her, but without any response.

Two days later, exactly a week after she first came in, she walks in again. He is busy with someone else, so Aurora serves her. Just like a week ago, she orders two hot chocolates, two cupcakes, and four bagels. While Aurora finishes up, he goes talk to her.

"Back again?"

He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes. Remember when I said I might've liked the hot chocolate? Well, I downplayed it big time. You've ruined any other hot chocolate for me and the coffee that I bought the before yesterday was delicious!"

Her gestures make it obvious that she means it.

"Glad to hear it. If you're planning to come by often, you should tell me your name, so I can put you on the regular list."

"The oh-so-holy regular list? Ruby told me of this moment. The moment when you get to coffee heaven. I didn't expect it to happen so soon."

"You know Ruby?"

In his head, he adds large cup, black, strongest kind, because it's an automatism.

"Yeah, one of my best friends and one half of the reason that I'm here today. The other half is called Mary Margaret."

Raspberry tea with a blueberry muffin.

"Ah, so I have them to thank for my newest coffee follower. I think I have enough followers to start a religion by now," he jokes.

"Sign me up!"

"And under what name would that be?"

That one is quite obvious. She smiles.

"Emma, Emma Swan."

"Welcome on the list, Emma."

Every Monday and Wednesday she comes by and after a while, Killian starts to realize a tendency in her behavior.

Wednesday she's always super relaxed. She has all of the time of the world and participates in some small talk with him.

But then there are the Mondays. Her order changes and so does her mood. She's hurried and sometimes even a bit rude. She orders with as less words as needed, pays her coffee in the same style as she ordered it and then runs out with her phone pressed against her face.

The mood swings keep on continuing until a very cold Friday in early February.

The people he expected today have come along and now it's pretty much just waiting until a stray soul wanders in.

The doorbell rings and he goes to the front.

She enters the room.

Red scarf tied around her neck, matching gloves and even her cheeks turned into the color because of the cold. Her trademark leather jacket had been switched into a black woolen coat, far more appropriate for this kind of weather.

Killian sees all these things only after he notices the worry on her face.

His world stops for a second and that's when it hits him.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

"Have you maybe seen a boy about this height,"

Her hands show how tall he is.

"And with brown hair and brown eyes?"

"No," he replies.

"Who is he?"

"Henry, my son."

So she has a son. That would explain the quantity and sweetness of her Wednesday order.

"I'm sorry, Swan, but no, I haven't. What happened?"

Emma takes a deep breath and starts to ramble.

"We had a fight because I won't him stay over at his friend's house when I'm out of town in a couple of days and instead I'm sending him to his uncle and aunt and he said that I pretend that he's a child and that he's not anymore and he just took off."

"How old is he?"

"13"

"Does he have a mobile phone?"

"Yes."

"Swan, I think you don't need to worry too much. You don't know how many times I ran away from home in my teenage days. And in all cases I returned home after less than 45 minutes. Let's make a deal. I'll make you some tea and if Henry hasn't contacted you in 15 minutes, I'll close the café and we'll go look for him. Okay?"

He looks at her for approval and she gives him hers.

"Can that tea be a hot chocolate?"

They have some small talk and 3 minutes before the time is up, a remorseful Henry calls to say he's sorry and that he's at home.

Killian sees the worries fall off Emma's shoulders.

"Thank you, Killian."

"I didn't do much, Swan."

"But you helped as for that I'd like to thank you. Would you want to go on a date with me?"

Killian doesn't need to think about it, but still waits some time before answering, just not to seem too eager.

"With all my pleasure, Swan."

 **Extra A/N: My brain decided to make this one-shot longer than I planned, so I present to you my first story :) This means that I won't stop writing ff, but be patient for new chapters.** **The title of every chapter comes from a song and this one is Winter Song by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson.** **I hope you all had an awesome Halloween!**


	2. Heart's on Fire

**A/N: I'm already apologizing for the lack of Emma in this chapter, but do not worry she's back in the next. It's just that this fic is a Killian PoV fic and when Emma's not there, she pretty much isn't there. So yeah. Enjoy!**

Killian walks towards the couch in the middle of the shop and tries to convince a persistent Will that he needs to leave.

"Come on, mate. It's 8. That's the hour that we close, remember?"

"Look, I know, but such a great night for coffee, innit?"

"Will, out! I still need to clean up here and I would like to be home before ten."

"Alright, alright. I'm going. Luckily enough is The Rabbit Hole still open,"  
he says with his very accented English.

"That is indeed an interesting fact. Go rejoice their establishment," Killian suggests while walking Will towards the door.

It's like this every evening shift he has.

He doesn't understand how Aurora does it because it takes him nearly 15 minutes each time and Aurora is far smaller than he is. He would have to ask her sometime soon, maybe she has a trick that advances everything.

Killian turns the open sign, so that it now says closed for anyone walking by. He locks the front door, goes to the back and takes a broom back with him. Killian sweeps the entire room, cleans the counter, makes sure the coffee machines are turned off and checks whether or not the dishwashers are set to run twice. One time overnight and the second time at 6 am, right before the shop opens.

When he sees everything is in order, he dims the lights and closes the shop a second time.

His apartment is about 7 minutes by car, but the Bostonian morning traffic usually turns that into half an hour or maybe even more.  
After experiencing the jams several times, he decided to go by foot.

It takes him about twenty minutes and he soon discovered that the time of his walk is a calming exercise before and after work. He empties his mind and only focuses on walking.

Before Killian knows it, he has reached his home and goes upstairs. He nods his next door neighbor Billy good evening and disappears in his flat. He turns on the light and his quite empty apartment becomes visible.  
Since Killian moved in here, he hasn't changed a lot.

The walls are still the same gray as they were in the first place.

He added some furniture and his precious coffee machine.

The only pictures that could be found are a picture of a raven haired woman and one of two men with the exact same hair color.

The first one was his mother; a picture taken a few months before her death.

She had taken him and Liam to the zoo and Liam, who had decided that he was going to become a photographer, claimed the camera and took pictures of her. It is still Killian's favorite picture.

In the second picture frame, he put a picture of Liam and him.

It was taken at the opening of "A Cup of Jones". Liam had flown out especially for the event and they had spent 4 wonderful days. Sadly enough, Liam had to return to his business in London and Killian couldn't come with because of his own newly founded business. A local newspaper featured the picture on their website and Killian had instantly printed it.

It was a great memory.

His stomach decides to show its discomfort and Killian walks to the kitchen in search of something to eat. He scans his entire fridge and knows it's time to do some grocery shopping, but there is still some leftover pizza and while he puts that in the oven, his mind travels back to the thought of Emma.

She asked him out. It took him forever to understand that that is what he wanted, but now he's overjoyed.

He searches his coat for something.

A napkin.

She gave it to him before she left for home the day she came searching for her son. Emma Swan is written on there with next to it a mobile number.

He inserts the number in his phone and hesitates.

Should he already send something?

Or maybe he should wait until tomorrow?

His timer goes off and he takes the pizza out of the oven. While munching on his slice, he makes a decision. He writes about a dozen texts. He deletes them all. It cannot seem like he's desperate. He tries one more time.

 _Hello,_ _lass. It's Killian. I hope Henry is well and that you've patched your differences. About that date. If it should happen, would you be okay with me organizing it? I know that you're away on a trip soon, but that gives me some time to plan it. Let me know what you think of it._ _  
 _-Killian__

Killian likes this version, it's casual, but also a bit serious.

This is the one.

He sends it and then turns off his phone.

He won't turn it back on for a couple of hours and after that, he'll see if she has responded. Tinka has the early shift tomorrow and Killian is only expected at work around 9 am, so he can stay up late.

A handy feature of being his own boss. He decides the schedule.

Less handy is the fact that he's there for eleven hours working and doing paperwork, but he doesn't really mind the long days.

It's better to work than to just sit alone at home.

His pizza is finished, his stomach is full and he doesn't want to go to bed already. He picks up a book that has been lying on his living room table for ages and starts reading.

Ring-Ring-Ring!

Killian wakes up by the annoying tone of his alarm.

He stretches and looks around. His neck feels tensed.  
Killian finds an explanation for the stiffness, he fell asleep on the couch last night. Apparently, he was more tired than he realized.

The clock above his television shows that it's 7:30 am, so he gets up to prepare himself.

He takes his time to shower, wash his hair and brush his teeth and by the time he's ready and dressed, it's 8:15.

Killian checks the mail.

There is a letter from Liam and some bills he should probably pay soon. He reads the letter.

It seems that business is booming over the pond and that Liam actually found a lass that can stand to be with him. He wants to tell Liam that the same happened with him, but Killian knows that it far too premature to say that.

He can still keep on dreaming.

The bills are put in his satchel, next to his mobile, to pay at work and at 8:30 he finally decides to leave for work.

He turns the corner and the red letters of the café come into sight. There are a lot of people standing before the entrance. Weird, they obviously have a morning rush, but not one where people line up before the door. When he approaches even closer he sees a new kind of red.

Fire trucks.

Killian starts running to get there as soon as possible.

He sees a woman dressed in green with the shop's apron over her clothes. Tinka.

She's frantically waving at him and shouts.

"Killian, oh my god! I'm so sorry, I don't know what I did wrong. I called 911 and they're inside, but they can't tell me anything and..."  
She stops to breathe and Killian sees that the tears are nearly spilling out of her eyes. He looks at his shop but doesn't see anything wrong.

"What happened?" he asks with great concern.

"I was serving a customer and then there was smoke coming out of the back. I tried to go look, but there was so much smoke, I couldn't see a thing. The smoke was coming into the shop with such a speed that I told everyone to leave that instant."

Killian looks back at his employee.

"Why, in the bloody hell, didn't you call?"

"I did! I tried to call, I probably called you a hundred times, but your phone kept on going to voice mail and I freaked out."

Huh? Was his phone turned off?

Fuck! He forgot to turn his phone back on this morning.

Idiot!

He opens his mouth to say something to Tinka, but he's interrupted by a firefighter.

"I understand you are the owner of this shop?"

Killian says yes and the woman signals him to follow. He leaves Tinka standing there. He would come back to her shortly.

Killian follows the black haired woman until she stops at the truck and starts talking.

"Hello, my name is Lieutenant Mills."

They shake hands and she continues talking.

"After doing a thorough sweep of the building, we have found the cause of the fire. You have a dishwasher in a back room?"

She didn't wait for his response.

"It overheated and started a small fire. Gladly, we got here before anything bad happened. There is quite a lot of smoke damage, but nothing that can't be fixed. I would advise, when you buy a new dishwasher, not to let it run unattended. Chances that this happens again are low. but there it can't hurt to be precautionary. I don't want people getting hurt next time."

The firewoman ends her explanation and Killian is impressed. She obviously knows how to do her job and he'll take her advice.

He's convinced that if he does it again, she'll probably destroy him.

He is so relieved that no one got hurt. He has Tinka to thank for that. If she hadn't acted as fast as she did, there probably wouldn't be a building to return to.

"Thank you, lieutenant. If you or your team ever want some coffee, I'll gladly provide you of some, free of charge."

"First you need to fix your coffeehouse because I am not drinking in there."

She gestures across the street.

"Can I go in to look?" he asks the woman.

"I would recommend waiting for another half hour so that the smoke has cleared, but after that, you are free to enter."

She makes it clear that the conversation is over.

Killian checks the street before crossing again. Tinka is standing there with worry in her look and ask him:  
"So, what caused the fire? It was my fault, wasn't it? I'm so sorry, Killian, I know that doesn't change anything, but I really am. I'll make everything easier for you and just quit."

"Tinka, relax. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. You actually prevented a much worse outcome. Thank you. I need to apologize for not answering my phone and making you stress out more, no doubt. I'm afraid it was turned off."

"No problem and I was only doing what I thought best."

Killian replies, "And that was very smart. Do you want to go look inside in a bit? I want to see the damage."

"Sounds good. Oh, and by the way, you can just call me Tink. I kinda hate the name Tinka."

"Okay, I will, Tink."

Killian smiles at her and it seems that she finally stops blaming herself.

They walk in and Killian is glad to see that the back wall is still intact.

The wall is filled with maps Killian collected. There are maps of the Ancient Roman Empire under its emperor Augustus and maps that show the routes of the oriental nomads. A South-American map on which he placed marks to display the places they get their products.

It is Killian's personal project and the wall grows with each time he goes to a flea market. He has seen plenty of people pointing out a place on the American map or staring dreamily at the map he found of Europe.

Killian always says he has the best view. He looks at the world from behind his counter.

"It's still here," he says while he touches on of the maps.

The smoke mustn't have reached this far.

"Luckily," Tink replies, "I love that wall."

"You do?" Killian asks.

"Yes, the maps are one of the best features here."

She then continues talking about the decoration.

It looks like Tink has quite a passion for interior design as they keep on scanning the room. She suggests several actions that could be taken to redesign the place. She points at a wall that has turned completely black because of the smoke.

"What if we turn that wall into some kind of Persian green and we keep the rest of the walls plain."

"Really, green? Well, that's an odd choice for you, lass," Killian says while grinning.

"Haha, it's not even that green of a color. I'll go to the store and bring a sample with me."

"I'd love that. You can go home now, Tink. I'll take care of the rest and if you'd like you can write down your plans and give them to me. I'm going to call Aurora to tell her everything."

"Alright, I'll do that. Again, I'm sorry, Killian," she says and Killian knows that his earlier thought was wrong.

He tries to make it clear again.

"Tink, stop it! I've said it already, it's not your fault. You did what you could. The best thing now is going home and to take your mind off of it."

Tink goes home and Killian starts writing a sign to hang in front of the entrance.

 _Closed for an indefinite period of time due to renovations._

He finally turns on his mobile and indeed, the calls come in. He has 78 calls from Tink, she wasn't exaggerating when she said she called a lot.

In midst of all the misplaced calls, there is a text from Emma's number, sent only minutes after he sent his message last night. Killian reads it.

 _ **I know how to plan a date! -E**_

He quickly replies.

 _I don't doubt your dating skills, Swan. I merely want to have something nice arranged when you return._

It only takes a minute before his phone beeps.

 _ **I know, Killian. Go ahead, but it better be good ;) See you in a couple of days -E**_

 **Extra A/N: This chapter's song is Heart's on Fire by Passenger**


	3. Swim To You

**A/N: Date Night! Woohoo! This is undeniably a fluff festival. Like, I didn't even try to give in to my angsty side. But beware, because that side is going to take over in the not so far future. See this as the calm before the storm ;) I hope you enjoy it!**

The couple of days fly by.

Killian has a meeting with Aurora and Tink to discuss the future of the coffeehouse and the women provide helpful advice that he will certainly use. They all agree that they should try to make the best of the situation and reopen "A Cup of Jones" with a big bang.

Aurora takes care of the website, where she keeps the customers up to date on the evolution of renovation, and Tink is busy redesigning the whole place and running everything by Killian.

He praises himself lucky that his personnel is so driven and loyal. He's already planning something to reward them because without them he would most definitely be lost.

This whole experience has also brought him a new friend. Tink is totally different from what he thought she was and has really surprised him in a lot of ways.

"So, when's your date with Emma?"

And in some ways, she hasn't.

"Tink, don't be nosy," he replies.

They are overseeing the works in the shop and taking down all of Killian's maps so that they don't get damaged. Tink is standing on a ladder to reach the some of the higher ones, while Killian is removing those that are hanging closer to the ground.

"Killian, you know you want to tell me. I'm giving you a way to do that."

Okay, she might have a point. He sighs.

"It's tomorrow," he says while looking up.

A third voice joins the conversation.

"What's tomorrow?" Aurora asks.

"His date with Emma."

Tink partially turns around to tell her and makes sure she doesn't fall off. Aurora's face shows she's shocked.

"Emma? As in the blonde you've been flirting with since she first came in three months ago? I'm so proud of you!"

Killian puts his face into his palm and wonders when his life had become this.

"Yes, that's her. But let's continue working."  
That's his weak attempt at changing the subject, but with Aurora and Tink, it is destined to fail.

"What do you have planned?"

Tink hands Aurora one of the maps and she rolls it up.

"You're taking her on the Jolly, right?"

Aurora then guesses. Killian looks at the brown-haired lass. Or red haired, it depends on the lighting.

"How did you know? Is it that predictable?"

"Relax, Killian. It's a great way to- How would you say it? To woo a lady. Emma is going to love it."

She smiles at him.

"A boat trip with you? She'll be amazed. You did well, boss."

Tink adds to Aurora's answer and starts to descend the ladder.

"And don't worry about everything here, we'll take care of it."

They both smile. Killian smiles back.

"Alright, thank you. You can go home now. There's not much to do here anymore."

They both go pack their things and say their goodbyes to him.

"And we want to hear every detail, okay?" Tink quickly shouts before the door closes.

He should've never kept Emma's number lying around in the café.

Tink found it and then the questions came and in order for them to stop he had to tell her, but then they didn't stop and well... This is now Killian's daily routine. Tink has made him even more nervous for the impending date with Emma and that isn't a good thing.

Killian does know that he has spent some time making sure everything is alright and in theory nothing could go wrong. He's hoping that's also the case in reality. He discusses some details with the contractor and goes home. He sends Emma a text with the address and time for tomorrow.

As always it doesn't take her long to answer.  
 _  
 _ **The harbor? -E**__

 _The_ _harbour._

 _ **Did you just quote The Fault in Our Stars? -E**_

 _No, lass. I didn't know that I was._

 _ **Huh, no knowledge of pop culture. That is something I can use :) -E**_

 _Beware, Swan. I do usually know when people are quoting something._

 _ **We'll see about that ;) I'll be there tomorrow. -E**_

She's a mystery, this woman. He's looking forward to getting to know her better and maybe have the mystery clarified a bit.

Today is the day.

He's ready for it. The nerves he had yesterday are gone and the excitement has taken their place. He checks everything a final time and he leaves his flat. The sky is clear and birds are whistling. It might be a bit soon, but Killian is relieved that spring is returning.

It's still cold, but it's also still February.

The coldest day of the year was the day after Emma asked him out. Everything froze over and the city became silent. The Jolly Roger was lying immobile in the ice.

It took nearly two weeks before the temperature rose, the water thawed and he was free to sail again. It was so excruciatingly cold that Killian had to shorten his excursion but still felt so liberating to back on the ocean. He decided that he was going to bring Emma here.

It was a great place to just breathe and not to think of anything else. He sensed that that was something she could use. If she felt only a fraction of his love for the enormous blue, it would be enough.

His boat comes into sight. Killian looks at his watch. He has about 20 minutes left to prepare everything. He goes below deck and puts the food into place.

The Jolly may not really look like much on the outside, but once you step in, you instantly feel like home.

He actually considered leaving his apartment and living here, but it simply was too cold and a bit too far from the coffeehouse.

The walls are decorated with rustic wood and small details are engraved on them. There are red pillows lying in the corner and maps that Killian kept for himself, instead of hanging them in the café. There is a narrow bed with a warm blanket spread over it.

Pictures of his childhood and family are set in frames, not having anything in common except for their golden setting. A case filled until the top notch with books. Some fairly new, some of which the worn out back shows that they are favorites.

Killian takes a red tablecloth and lays it over the table. He places unlit candles and two plates on it. Next to the plate comes a white napkin and the cutlery. He opens an oaken cabinet and finds some blankets.

Should Emma want to stay on the deck, he doesn't want her to get cold.

He goes above deck and there she is.

Right on time.

A gray beanie is covering her ears and her blond locks spill out of it. She's wearing her black coat again and her cheeks are also the same color of red that they were a few weeks ago. She spots him and smiles.

"You have your own boat?" she asks while approaching the water.

"I do, indeed." He smiles back.

"Jolly Roger jr," she reads on the side. "Let me guess, the senior can be found in a tale called Peter Pan?"

"Good guess, but no. My brother Liam has the senior back in London. He's the one who chose the name, so I thought it would be kind to keep it."

He helps her on board.

"Hello, love."

She looks weirdly at him and Killian wonders why.

Oh, right. He has never called her that before.

It's always been lass or Emma or Swan, but never love. Just as fast as it came, the look disappears again and she greets him.

"Hi, Killian. London, huh? Now I don't have to ask you anymore where the accent comes from."

"Yes, born and raised."

They stay where they are, a bit awkward until Killian finally understands that she's waiting on him to do something.

"Um, yes. Well, if you want, you can stay on deck and you can help with the boat, but if you'd rather have the advantage of heat, then you can go below deck and I'll sail us out to sea."

She clearly doesn't need to think about her answer.

"I'm helping."

She rubs her gloved hands together.

"What do you want me to do?"

He gives her directions. She follows them perfectly and soon they are surrounded by only sea.

"Let's go inside," Killian suggests.

They have been working hard and Killian is hungry. He assumes Emma has also a need for food when she agrees. Killian leads and Emma walks closely behind him. He lights the candles and waits until the room warms up a bit.

Emma's face is graced with a small smile and full of amazement.

"This is gorgeous," she says, "You really went all out." and the smile on her face grows.

Killian is pleased that she likes it and asks if he can take her coat. She replies with of course and hands him the black piece of clothing.

Emma is wearing a simple white sweater and a pair of blue jeans, but she still looks amazing. He pulls up a chair for her and goes to take the food. When he returns she's standing up again, admiring his collection of books.

"The name still comes from Peter Pan, doesn't it," she says and shows him his old copy of the novel.

"It might be one of the favorite tales of the Jones brothers, yes," he admits while spreading out the vegetables and meat.

"Oh, wow. That smells delicious!" Emma puts the book back and is lured to the table by the aroma of the food.

"Good, let's eat," Killian says while taking a seat.

"So how did a guy from London end up in Boston?"

"I came here to study and then I kind of stuck around, not knowing what to do. It took me quite a while before realizing that I wanted to open a coffeehouse and then it took me quite a while to raise enough funding to open "A Cup of Jones", but I succeeded and now I'm here."

"I always wanted to ask. Why did you name it "A Cup of Jones"?"

Killian raises his hands defensively before starting to talk.

"I'll make one thing clear already. It wasn't my choice."

Emma smiles.

"My brother helped me out a lot with rent and supplies and actually with everything I needed to open and he has a terrible sense of humor. I had been looking for a name and graciously failing at it for a fairly long time. One day he came to me and said: "Killian, you know how Americans call coffee a cup of joe?" and I really tried to make it clear to him that I've never actually heard anyone say that, but he just wouldn't listen. I don't know how he comes up with those names and I certainly don't know why I keep on giving him the pleasure of using them."

Killian cracks up and so does Emma.

"He's your brother and you love him."

"Yes, that's the only reason I have for using atrocious names."

"What happened with the café, by the way? I walked past it yesterday and it was closed."

"There was a fire and now we're trying to fix everything," Killian explains.

"Oh, that sucks. How bad is it?"

"It could've been worse. Some smoke damage, but I think we can reopen in a week or maybe two. Everyone's working at double speed."

"Good, because I've already missed my hot chocolates for far too long and I know Henry has as well."

Killian already had a feeling that Wednesday's order was also for her son.

"How come he doesn't come with you?"

"He's thirteen and there's this thing called school."

She smirks and raises her eyebrows. Killian feels stupid.

"I might've forgotten that fact."

"His school is only a couple of blocks away from the café, so I take my order and then I go pick him up. We usually eat it in the park and just talk. I'm a bail bonds person and Wednesday is the only day I don't have to work. It's a day where Henry and I just hang out and be together."

She takes another bite of food.

There. Killian has an explanation of her mood changes. He feels sorry for her. It must be horrible to have so little time with her son.

"But Henry's amazing about it and he at least tries to understand. Lately, we've had some arguments, but that's just the age. I'm really lucky to have such a kid."

Emma is clearly proud.

"You should bring him over some time, Swan. I'd love to meet him."

Emma is clearly surprised by his statement but doesn't say anything about it. She finishes her plate and arranges her cutlery.

"I have to admit, Killian. You know how to plan a date."

"And it isn't finished yet."

He stands up and walks to the corner where the red pillows lie. He reaches for them and asks Emma if she would like to take cushions. She does. He then takes the blankets and he asks her to follow him upstairs.

It's completely dark outside, but they are far enough from the city in order for the bright stars to be visible. He hears Emma's footsteps on the stairs and then they abruptly stop. He turns around and hears her gasp.

Her green eyes widen and she's captivated by them.

He only sees her.

To him, she's the most mesmerizing creature he has ever seen.

"Swan," he says to get her attention. "You want to sit down?"

She softly shakes her head to return to the now and continues walking. She lays down the pillows and sits on one of them. Killian does the same while keeping his distance. He gives her a blanket, as a protection against the chill of the night and wraps himself in another.

"The moon should be here somewhere," he says while searching for it.

She responds quietly.

"Oh, don't let us ask for the moon. We've already got the stars."

He knows that she's reciting something and he has no idea what.

"A quote, Swan?"

She smiles.

"Yes, it is. But I don't blame you for not knowing it. It's a line from a really old movie."

Killian senses a story and doesn't reply. After a while, Emma starts talking again.

"When I was pregnant with Henry, I ended up in a bad situation and I didn't have access to a lot of books or movies."

He tries to be as silent as possible so that he doesn't interrupt her story. Killian knows from own experience that it can be difficult to talk about the past.

"There was this one movie, the movie where this quote is from, that I must've watched a hundred times. After a while, I could recite it front to back and back to front and I felt so connected to the main character. The movie gave me that bit of hope that made me think that things could actually become better. One day I went to get the movie and it was gone. They had thrown it away and replaced it with some stupid action movie. I was so upset. That hope I had, it completely disappeared along with it and my life became even duller. All because of an old, black and white movie."

While she talks, she doesn't look down once, her gaze set on the stars above her. She finally does.

Killian looks back at her. He doesn't feel pity, but he understands her.

The wind starts to play with her hair, blowing it in all directions.

For some time, they just stare at each other. Blue eyes meeting green ones. She slowly closes their distance. The cold has taken any sign of heat from his lips, but when Emma's touch his, the warmth returns.

They break apart when a cold drizzle falls out of the sky. Killian looks up and the night sky is now concealed by clouds.

"We better return," he says, not wanting to move.

Ignoring the rain, they stay close to each other for a while and then Emma breaks the contact by standing up.

"Let's go. How can I help?"

By the time they are back in the harbor, they are both soaked.

The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. Killian moors the Jolly and they both get off.

"I hope you liked it, Swan." He expectantly looks at her and her smile confirms his assumption.

"I did. Thanks."

"No need to thank me, love. It was my pleasure."

They are standing face to face.

"Could I persuade you to go out with me again?"

"You most definitely could."

Killian looks into her eyes and sees an invitation. He brushes her face and leans in.

For the second time this evening, he's kissing Emma Swan and Killian is enamored by her.

The questions he had now have answers, but a million new ones have formed in his mind.

They part for a final time.

"Goodbye, Emma. Get home safely."

"I will, bye."

She turns around and places her gray hat back on her wet strands. She looks over her shoulder to him.

"Thank you, Killian," she says again and then walks away.

Killian keeps on looking until her silhouette has completely vanished in the dark.

 **A/N: I don't know why but this is one of my favorite things that I've written so far. This week's title comes from the song Swim to You by Dotan. I really recommend listening to it because it's a beautiful song and it really fits with this chapter.** **See you on the next update and as always reviews are very welcome.**


	4. Believe

**A/N: Here's the fourth chapter. The updates will come less frequently after this one, but don't worry. You won't have to wait several months before a new chapter comes out. Oh and this is the last chapter before the angst takes control. Just a warning ;) Hope you like it.**

He wakes up and for the first time in a while the empty feeling is gone.

A new day is finally exciting instead of dreading.

He takes his time to get out of bed, slowly removing its blue cover. He feels a cough coming up and when it does, it sounds like he has been smoking since childbirth. His throat burns and feels like a dry desert that hasn't seen any rainfall for years.

The winter cold, in combination with the rain that decided to crash their date, has brought its toll.

After another coughing session, Killian leaves his warm den in search of a remedy.

He should have some coughing syrup or some throat tablets lying around in his bathroom. He opens every cabinet and goes through nearly every drawer in the light green room, without success. Some water will have to do.

Killian doesn't actually mind the soreness.

The evening he had makes it all worth.

Emma opened up, to his surprise, and exposed a small part of her tale. He now knows more about Henry and his passion for books and video games and about her job and the idiots she encounters daily. She even told him bits of her past.

Killian hopes that he can show her that she can trust him and that both of their lives have been difficult.

He takes another sip of his glass while looking out of the window.

The street is alive with people dressed in business suits. Killian despises how they all wear black. He has nothing against the color, he's rather fond of it, but after a while, it starts to remind him of a funeral.

When he opened the café, he instantly decided that they would not have a dress code, but that everyone, well, only he at that time, could wear whatever they wanted, but no more than one black piece of clothing at a time.

Aurora was delighted by his decision when she came on board and surprised Killian with the amount of pink clothing she owned.

He, for one, was more prone to the color blue, which was also quite visible in his wardrobe.

A car honk brings Killian back to the image in front of him. In the mass of black suits, one person stands out. The mailman. Time to check his mailbox.  
He sets his glass on the table and goes downstairs.

A small, metal key is fished out of his front pocket. Killian opens one of the identical boxes and goes through the content.

Advertisements, some more bills to pay and a letter from Liam.

He smiles and hurries back to his flat, taking two steps at a time. A lot of people would find it odd that he and his brother still communicate via written letter in this day and age, but Killian quite likes it.

It's far more personal than text messages and it isn't interrupted by the time difference like Skype calls.

The only disadvantage is that it takes about two weeks before a letter arrives, but the brothers don't mind that.

He opens the white envelope and takes the letter out of it. When he unfolds it, a picture falls out. He bends to pick it off the wooden floor. It's a picture of the northern lights.

 _What do you think of it, little brother?_ is written on the back and the first thing Killian thinks is that Liam should stop calling him little brother.

He turns it back around and Killian stares with awe.

His brother is a photographer and quite an exquisite one, may he say. He travels around to take pictures of nature in its various forms and not so long ago he returned from a trip to Scandinavia.

Sometimes, when he sees pictures, Killian is jealous of his older brother.

The fact that Liam gets paid to travel around the world and to visit stunning places is difficult to wrap his head around. But Killian is also always proud of the masterpieces Liam takes.

He has an entire collection of his brother's oeuvre hanging on his fridge. This one gets a place in the middle and Killian returns to the letter.

It says that he has gotten an offer from National Geographic to make a coverage. He doesn't know about what yet, but he's clearly very happy.

Killian smiles and immediately starts writing a response. The blank sheet of paper fills with blue words of congratulation and his swirly font also tells about the nearly finished renovation.

Should he also mention Emma?

He taps his pen on his table while considering. After some time of weighing his options, a small scratch has appeared on the table and Killian makes a decision. It might be soon, but it will take two weeks before the letter even arrives and a lot can happen in two weeks.

Killian continues writing, telling all about the gorgeous blonde in his life. He writes his goodbye and signs his name. The folded letter goes into its envelope and Killian fills in the address, that he knows by heart after penning it down countless times. He searches for the international stamps and sticks one on the corner of the square.

His throat starts to ache again and he crosses the room to his half-full glass of water. He passes the clock on the way there and his eyes widen when he sees what it shows.

8:55.

Bloody hell, he's going to be late.

In a record pace, he grabs his coat and satchel. He throws his keys and phone in there and takes the letter with him to post it on the way. He runs down the stairs, nearly knocking over Graham, the Irish man that lives one story above him.

"Wow!" his neighbor says.

"Sorry, mate, but I'm late for work."

Graham nods understandingly and gives Killian more passage.

Killian could, technically, come late to work and there'd be no one who could say anything about it, but he doesn't like that. It would be incredibly unfair to his employees and if Killian despises something, that's it.

"Sorry, boss, but you are..." Tink looks at her watch. "12 minutes late."

"Apologies, lass. It will not happen again."

Killian takes one of the aprons and ties it around his waist.

"I'm guessing that your date went very well. Is that the reason you're late? Did she stay over?"

She winks at him.

"Tink!"

Killian looks disapprovingly at her and picks up a paint brush. After a while, Tink talks again.

"I'm sorry, but I have to know. How did your date with Emma go?"

"It was good. We ate and talked and it was great."

Killian pretends like the date went okay, when in reality it was amazing and ideal and in no way could it have been more perfect.

He knows better than to use those adjectives in the presence of Tink.

"Did you kiss?" She continues the interrogation and Killian doesn't know how to answer this question.

He doesn't want to lie to her, but what else can he say?

When Tink's face becomes shocked, he knows he waited too long.

"You totally did! Wow, I need to tell Aurora this. She's going to flip."

She points her brush at him. The paint on the tip matches the color of her sweater, but the gesture has too much excitement in it and a few green splatters appear on his apron. She mutters a silent whoops.

"Tink. This is too much. I'm still the owner here _and_ your boss."  
He emphasizes the and.

"I get that you're curious, but I have to draw a line somewhere."

They have become friends, but it isn't very professional to discuss his personal life during work hours, even if there are no customers there.

Tink places her hand on his shoulder and looks at him.

"I understand, Killian. But just so you know, I'm happy for you. I really am."

She smiles at him and he smiles back.

"Let's finish this thing so that we can reopen soon. You mentioned Aurora earlier. May I ask where she is?"

"She went to print posters she made to promote the café. They look wonderful, she showed them to me yesterday."

"Oh, great. I think we should be able to open on Friday."

And the subject was back.

"Are you going to invite Emma?" Tink says with a teasing tone.

He looks at her.

"Really, lass?"

"Come on. It's just a question."

She tries to defend herself. Killian shrugs.

"She probably has to work. She has a busy schedule."

"Just ask her. The worst answer you can get is an "I can't make it""

Tink has a point and when they finish the wall, he sends her a text.

"If you want something for that cough of yours, I have these lemon sweets that seriously do magic," Tink says while wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

She returns and hands them to Killian. Her look scans the room.

"What else do we have to do in here?"

Emma still hasn't responded and it's been three days.

Normally, he wouldn't really worry if it took someone a bit longer to answer, but it's Emma. Her replies are always sent within five minutes of receiving the message.

Why isn't she answering now?

He decides to write another one.

 _Hi, Emma. I don't know if you've seen my first text, but you definitely don't have to feel obligated to come to the opening. If you're not up for it or you're too busy, I understand. I must mention that there will be a lot of hot chocolate and it might be free for regulars ;)_

He deletes the winky face, it's too out of character for him and off the text goes. Tink was wrong.

The worst answer he could get was the lack of one.

Friday.

The big reopening of "A Cup of Jones". The place looks stunning. Tink really did a good job.

They all did.

Without the teamwork they used, it would probably have taken far longer to reopen. He goes over the list in his mind one more time. It seems that everything is in order. He rearranges the magazines on the main table one last time so that the one featuring Liam's pictures is on the top of the pile.

Killian took the picture of the northern lights and ordered a canvas of it, with haste, which is now proudly hanging on the side wall of the shop. He smiles while looking around.

He hates to admit it, but the café looks even better than before. There are all these different elements that make a whole and he can clearly see the influence of the girls in the interior.

Aurora has even managed to sneak in a pink bouquet of roses next to the couch and it still doesn't clash. This is his coffeehouse and he's bloody proud of it.

"It looks great, doesn't it?" Killian turns around and sees Aurora standing behind him.

"Yes, it does. I'm impressed that we didn't turn it into a mess." Killian grins at her.

"I think we have Tink to thank for that because this goes beyond my sense of interior design." She giggles and then her face turns more serious.

"Have you heard anything from Emma?"

"Not a word," he replies, "I don't even know if she's coming today."

"We'll see, I guess."

She glances at the wall, where the huge clock is hanging.

"It's time." she says and she walks to the door where the open sign is hanging.

"The honor's yours, Killian."

Killian joins her at the door and just before he turns the sign, they hear Tink.

"You were going to open without me? Really?"

They both throw her a guilty smile.

"Sorry, lass," Killian then says. "But now that you're here, can I finally open?"

"Go for it!" Killian turns the sign and only seconds after he does, Elsa already comes in.

"You're back!" she says.

"We're back!" Tink and Aurora nearly scream.

Killian laughs and turns to Elsa.

"An iced coffee for you?"

"Yes, please," she answers.

"How you drink that in mid-winter, I will never understand," Killian says while preparing her drink.

She smiles and rearranges her light blond braid.

"Well, let's just say that the cold's never bothered me."

The day flies by and Killian is pleased to see that among the faces of his regulars, there are quite a few new people who come in and try "A Cup of Jones" and it seems that they like what they see.

There is one face Killian constantly keeps looking for but it never shows up. He doesn't want this day to end on a negative note, so he ignores the letdown and focuses on getting Will out of the building.

"Aurora!" he shouts. "I need some help."

Now's the time to discover what Aurora's secret trick is.

"What's wrong?" Aurora comes in from the back with her half eaten sandwich in her hands and when she sees Will, she sighs and mumbles something in the line of "this fucking dude."

"Up, Scarlett, or do you want me to call Anastasia to tell you everything about your day here? I mean I'd have to mention that you weren't actually at that class she sent you to."

Will's eyes turn big and he suddenly feels hurried.

"Did you redecorate the place? It looks much better like this, dunnit?" he says, trying to change the subject and when Aurora raises her eyebrows, he starts begging. "Oi, dinna tell Ana, please. I'm leaving."

He walks out of the door.

"So that's how you do it. Who's Anastasia?" Killian looks surprised at Aurora.

She answers, "His fiancée and a friend of mine. We met in yoga class and she always tells me everything she plans for her dear Will. Like his marital preparation class, which he should've gone to today while he was sitting here. Honestly, I have enough leverage on that man to last a whole year." Aurora smirks.

"To be honest, lass, I wasn't expecting that from you."

She eats the last bit of her sandwich and shrugs like it's nothing. Killian smiles.

"I think it's time for champagne," he says while lifting a single eyebrow.

Tink's face appears from behind the door.

"Did I actually hear the word champagne?"

Her hair wiggles and the joy on her face is apparent. It's a comic sight and they all start laughing.

"Surprise."

After another two days, Killian has completely given up on Emma.

He sent her one more text asking if everything was okay, but like his previous ones, it remained unanswered. He tries not to be let down too much, but it still feels shitty. He really thought that something could've happened, but he guesses it wasn't supposed to.

He also knows how to take a hint.

It's fair to say that it is completely understandable that Killian has to blink twice when she's suddenly standing in line like every other Monday, ready for her morning coffee. She ends up on his service and she briefly tells him what she wants.

He replies, "I know, Swan. You're a regular, remember?"

She looks irritated and Killian's confusion grows even more. Yes, her mood is bad on Mondays, but this is a whole new level.

"Is everything okay, Emma? Did something happen with Henry or...?"

"Yes and no," Emma says abruptly. She reaches for her coffee and leaves.

Killian is taken aback. Aurora, who sees the whole ordeal, looks at him with concern.

He doesn't know what to say.

What happened to her? She isn't even acknowledging him or the evening they spent together.

Did they really go on a date or is his mind just playing foul tricks on him?

No, he's sure of it.

The memories he has are hard to forget and far too detailed to be fiction. Emma was on the J.R. jr. and they dined and talked and watched the sky and kissed.

He must have done something.

Something that made Emma become this way.

Bloody hell. What did he do?

 **Extra A/N: The song I used for this chapter is Believe by Mumford and Sons**


	5. Give Me Love

**A/N: Here's the next chapter of AGCFSS. As title, I chose Ed Sheeran's Give Me Love because let's be honest, that song is a masterpiece! I'd like to say thank you to the people who left a review and made me smile :) Also thank you to that guest reviewer who corrected me. I felt a bit embarrassed, but you taught me something new. If you enjoyed the chapter or you see a mistake, a review is a great way to let me know ;) I hope you like the chapter!**

The thought keeps on repeating itself.

He made her like this.

Whatever he does, his mind keeps on going back to Emma.

"What was that?" Aurora asks, not long after Emma has left.

Killian doesn't know how to answer.

What was that, indeed?

"Killian?"

"I don't know," he answers.

"Tink told me that your date went great. How come she's acting like that?"

"I don't know, Aurora!"

He repeats his previous reply, this time with a more frantic attitude. Killian runs his fingers through his hair as an act of slight despair.

His anger is misplaced and he shouldn't be angry at her. She doesn't even take part in this story.

No, if he should be mad at anyone, it should be himself. He's the one who damned everything.

"I'm sorry, lass. I shouldn't have. I apologize for my little outburst."

Aurora shows him that it's okay.

"I guess she just doesn't want to see me again. I mean that much is quite clear. So I'll give her what she wants."

Disbelief appears on Aurora's face.

"Come on! She came here. Voluntarily. If I wanted to avoid someone, I wouldn't come to their coffeehouse in a city with one on every corner. You need to talk to her. You have her number. Call!"

Aurora really wants him to call, but he knows that the only thing he'd hear is a continuing ring and a voicemail.

"What am I supposed to say then? She doesn't even respond to my texts; I can already tell you that she won't pick up the phone either."

None of the three texts he sent in the past days had gotten a reaction from her.

Did she read them only to immediately throw them in the bin?

It could also be that she didn't even make the effort to read them and that they were directly deleted from existence.

"You do have another option. Talk to her, face to face."

He is so not doing that.

"No, Aurora. I can't just go up to her and ask. Plus, the chances of her returning here are nearly zero."

"Of course you can. It's only a question. You do deserve an answer, Killian. If she tells you that she doesn't want to see you, then you obviously leave her alone. She should have the decency to tell you instead of just ignoring you. She comes in every Monday and Wednesday right?"

Aurora looks at him for an answer.

"Aye," is the only thing she gets to hear. There isn't more to say. She keeps on looking in his eyes, showing him that he needs to listen.  
"Okay, so you wait 'till the day after tomorrow and if she drops by, you will see. Possibility one:"

Aurora's index goes up.

"Emma doesn't come, you never see her again and it's over. Possibility two: Emma does come and you talk to her. It's all a big misunderstanding and you fix everything. Possibility three: Emma comes and you talk to her. It's true that she doesn't want to see you again because of this or that reason and it's over."

It sounds so easy when she puts it like that, but he has a feeling that the eventual turnout will be somewhat different from the said case-scenarios. He hopes that possibilities one and three don't happen, but Killian still agrees with Aurora's plan.

He doesn't know a better way to do it.

A client comes in and Aurora takes his order. Killian goes to clear some empty cups off of the table.

After the talk with Aurora, he tries to focus on work and not let the thought of Emma take over.

It does work on Tuesday, but when Wednesday comes, the green eyes and blonde locks constantly play the part of the protagonist in his thoughts.

For the tenth time, he looks at the clock. Time passes by, but it still seems like the clock arrows have quit their job of telling it. Killian thinks that at least ten minutes have passed by since he last looked, but when he glances back, the clock tells another tale.

It's tortuous.

"Killian, relax."

"Sorry, what?"

He turns to her.

"I said relax, she will come. I'm sure of it."

"How can you be sure of it, Tink?"

"I just have a feeling."

"Aurora said the same thing."

Tink dries a cup and places it on the counter.

"That means that we are both going to be right."

Killian is still not convinced.

"How can you know?"

"Killian, she has been coming here for months and each time she coincidentally ended up in your queue. She showed you smiles, that neither Aurora nor I have seen from her, she flirted with you like crazy. You went on a date and were super-duper happy. Need I say more?"

"You are forgetting the fact that there has been a complete radio silence since then," he adds to her reasoning.

"Oh, I know, but she'll come. I'm telling you."

Apparently, Tink's feelings are accurate, because, after about an hour of more doubt, her leather jacket appears in the door opening.

Tink nudges Killian and makes a gesture towards the door to signal him. Emma is a few minutes earlier than she normally is. He looks at her and she seems to be hesitating.

There are significantly fewer people standing in his line than there are in Tink's, but she still goes to stand behind a light-haired man in his employee's line.

He gathers up his courage, ready to say something, but new people appear in Killian's queue before he can. He hurries to finish his orders before she's gone.

"Welcome to "A Cup of Jones" What can I get you?"

Killian rushes but still tries to be a pleasant barista.

A decaf coffee, an espresso, and a jasmine tea.

His hands move fast; his muscle memory takes over.

He hands the last woman in line her cup and sees Emma heading towards the exit. He doesn't want to appear desperate, but that's what he kind of is, to be honest. His mouth shouts before his mind can think.

"Emma."

She keeps on walking, but Killian's sure that she heard him. He tries again.

"Emma!" he says this time, his tone more insisting.

The heads of the customers turn around, looking at him with wonder. She stops right before the door; her shoulders rise as if she is taking a deep breath. She turns around.

The eyes go from him to Emma and Killian decides to move this little scene away from the public and make it more private. He asks Tink.

"Will you be okay out here alone for a while?"

She nods.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. I'll manage."

He knows that she is more than capable of handling the shop on her own, but he merely wanted to double check. His glance goes back to Emma and he addresses her again.

"Could you come with me for a second?"

The reluctance on her face is pronounced and for a second he's certain that she's just going to leave him standing there, in front of the very attentive crowd.

That he has to return to a life without her.

It looks like every stare in the room is focused on her, waiting on her decision.

The entire space is silent and the seconds tick away until she, with an indecipherable mask over face, nods her head as a sign of permission. Her hand leaves the door handle and finds shelter in her pocket. She follows the same route, but in the reversed direction and stops when she feels that she's close enough to him for her to hear what he has to say and far enough to maybe make a run for it.

When he is certain of her willingness and presence, he moves. She trails him behind the counter. The rustle in the café starts again and Tink throws him a small, encouraging smile for support.

They walk in silence.

The breakroom smells delicious. Killian put some pastry in the oven not so long ago and the cinnamon fragrance filled the entire room.

"Would you like to sit?"

She shakes her head. Killian becomes aware of the fact that she hasn't said a word to him.

Gestures.

That's the only way she's talking to him. As if he isn't worthy of the honor of having words spoken to him.

Emma puts the "A Cup of Jones" bag on the table and it reminds Killian of something.

"I know you have to pick up Henry, so I'll make this short."

Even though her face is a blank canvas, he still detects some surprise there. Isn't it quite logical that he knows about her Wednesdays with Henry?

Killian continues speaking, "First of all, I'm sorry that I approached you just now, but I had the feeling that if I didn't, I would regret it. I don't even know why, but I'm apologizing right now. Seemingly I must have misunderstood something. It could also be that I missed something vital on our date or that something happened afterward. You obviously don't want anything to do with me and I'll respect your wishes, but I just want to make sure you are indeed alright and if you're not alright and that's my fault... You could say that I would feel extremely guilty if that was the case. So, I just need to ask you this one thing: Did I do something to upset you?"

He finally looks up at her and sees her mask shatter piece by piece.

"No, Killian. You didn't."

Her voice returns and the words are a melody to his ears. Killian feels the relief in his whole being.

It isn't his fault.

But if it isn't his fault, it must mean that she simply isn't interested in him. The relief is only to a short extent.

He has to say goodbye to her.

"I understand. I'd still like to thank you because I had a grand time. It was nice to meet you."

He stretches out his hand for a handshake. It feels strange. They shared so much of their lives.

A handshake is something for strangers and Emma Swan is no stranger to him. He knows.

He knows about the way she likes her coffee and that she always sprinkles cinnamon over her hot chocolate. Henry is her son and he's a very smart, young adolescent who's aspiring to be a writer. She's a bail bonds person and a very good one because she isn't afraid of a fight and uses her wit.

She had a difficult past but got her life back on trails for Henry and for herself. She's a bloody amazing woman.

It's not like he just knew all of these things, she told him.

Except for the last one, that's his own perception after meeting and getting to know her.

It stings that she opened up if she didn't even enjoy their time together.

Emma grabs his hand and shakes it. He signals toward the door to show her that she can lead the way and they make their way back to the shop. She abruptly stops walking and Killian nearly collides with her. He takes a step backward and she turns around.

"Look, I also had a great time," she admits. "There is no use in pretending I didn't. I just realized that I'm not ready for all of this."

Killian moves his eyebrows into a frown.

"All of what? It was just a date, Swan," he remarks.

"Yes, it was, but I could see in your eyes that it meant more."

She tries to explain and her hands follow.

Her right hand eventually settles just below her neck, forming a new connection between her two collarbones. His attention is drawn there and he sees her pulse right above her hand.

Her heart is beating fast.

Her left hand opens partially when her mouth forms the next word.

"I'm just not dating material. I mean, I can barely handle my job and raising a kid. This is just too much."

While she talks, a self-mocking smile appears on her face. As if she feels that she's failing in some kind of way.

Disappointing her son and making a complete and utter mess of it. He really wants to show her that that isn't the case.

"Say what you must, lass, but you can't tell me that I didn't see the exact same thing in your eyes."

His eyebrows go up. He knows that he's challenging her, but he also knows that what he's saying is true.

Emma exposed herself on their date. Not as the mysterious customer in the coffeehouse or the fierce bail bonds person.

No, she became the soft, caring and loving woman she is. She became Emma.

"You didn't."

He has to admit; she is a stubborn one.

"Emma, I know we haven't known each other for that long, but that doesn't change that I can still read you like an open book."

Killian hears her taking calming breaths. She grumbles something and he can barely make out the words she says.

"Stop it."

He attempts to reason with her, "Look, I'm trying to tell you that I understand."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever happens, I'm going to hurt you. I've already managed to do that and we aren't even together. I don't want to, I really don't, but it's inevitable. I'm just no good. Not for you, not for anyone, not even for Henry. He's stuck with me because I'm his mom. I can't really change anything about that."

This is going too far; Killian has to put a stop to it.

"Emma, what are you saying? Henry is lucky to have you as a mother. You can't say things like that."

He is truly shocked. He knows a thing or two about self-loathing, but Emma has no reason to think this of herself. Anyone can see that the things she's saying are far from the truth.

"You don't know me."

"I'm not claiming that I know every detail, but I still know the essence. You are brilliant and smart. You are a tough lass, but a caring one as well. And I can also tell you that you most definitely haven't ruined anyone's life"

She has cast down her look. He thinks that she isn't listening to what he's saying. It's so important that she hears this. He tries to reason with her.

"Emma-"

"What do you want, Killian?"

Emma looks up and her eyes have a watery edge. Killian is shocked.

Maybe he has gone too far.

"Is this what you want?"

She gestures towards her face and Killian shakes his head.

"You are not convincing me. I know who I am. I've been living with myself for over thirty years. I fuck things up, that's the only thing I am good in. I'm not going to drag anyone into my mess and ruin their lives. I'm just not. It's impossible for me to love someone."

Killian's eyes widen and so do hers when she hears her own words. She hastily grabs the off the table and leaves the break room.

She must be running, because she has disappeared before Killian can comment. He stares at the door, ready to yell after her, but no words come out.

She's gone and he's still standing there, in a cinnamon-scented room.


	6. Run

**A/N: Hi :) New chapter as an early Christmas gift! The title comes from a song by RHODES. The main scene in here was inspired by The Words video clip. Hope you like it and enjoy your holidays!**

She actually said it.

Her mouth formed the four letter word and said it. The thoughts race through his mind.

"Killian, could you come for a second?"

He hears Tink's muffled call from behind the door.

For a few more seconds he stays there and then his feet move back to the coffee room. When his ears pick up the sound of the chatting customers, he's pulled out of his thoughts.

Tink is clearly struggling with the stream of clients. How long did he stay there for it to become this busy?

"Sorry," he says to her, so fast that it's hard to understand.

He rolls his sleeves up until they reach his elbows.

"No problem."

They quickly work their way through all of the orders and the calm returns.

Tink is looking at him with an expectant gaze, but he doesn't respond it. Emma left him confused, yet again. Killian considers telling Tink but decides not to.

He knows that he can trust her and Aurora as well and they _are_ the only people he _can_ tell. Sadly, Killian isn't that very good in the whole friends thing.

There is the possibility to write Liam, but that will take far too long. By the time his responding letter arrives, another month will have passed.

No, he first needs to replay everything that happened before he can do or say anything, but this is not the time nor is it the place.

From now on, until the moment that the shop is locked, there is only work and nothing else.

His breath temporarily becomes a cloud of smoke and then vanishes into thin air.

The dark night is soothing, but Killian isn't calm yet.

The usually loud traffic has become silent again. His eyes scan the street before he crosses it. He takes a step left to avoid a brownish puddle that formed in an irregularity of the asphalt. His white earbuds blast loud music into his ears.

The genre or the lyrics don't even matter, it just needs to dominate everything on his walk home.

Killian reaches his building and steps into the brightly lighted corridor.

His mailbox is empty except for some folders he'll probably never read.

No letter from Liam.

Killian was so excited about Emma and life in his last letter, that Liam's letter will probably reflect that and Killian doesn't know if he wants that or not.

He climbs the stairs.

It feels as if every step to the first floor is a Mount Everest on itself. The last one is conquered but he doesn't feel victorious. He fishes for his keys. Killian feels tired and there's no actual reason for it. Killian just feels tired.

The lock clicks and the door opens. His satchel is instantly thrown in the corner. He hears the clutter of a newly forming mess but doesn't pay attention to it.

It can wait.

With reluctance, he walks towards his kitchen to satisfy his stomach. The plastic refrigerator shelves are still nearly empty. He closes the door.

There isn't anything there.

He takes a look in the cupboard and finds a can of tomato soup. The music changes into a new song and Killian boils some water for the few strings of uncooked spaghetti he found in the back of the wooden box. He mixes them together and voila: a five-star dish.

After devouring his, quite honestly, pathetic meal, he stands still in the living room.

His hands move in front of his eyes, temporarily drowning them in darkness.

He stretches the muscles in his back. They feel sore. He rolls his head and again he feels the pull of his muscles.

After _she_ left, he had worked alongside Tink.

It wasn't really alongside.

He mostly worked in solitude, moving heavy boxes. There was no need to move them, but he still did. Tink's worrying was clearly etched on her face, but he chose to ignore it.

Box after box was lifted and when all of the boxes were moved, he chose the 20 pound bags of coffee as his next victim.

Tink put him to a stop, but he just continued.

He knows that he shouldn't have, that he pushed himself too much earlier and that he's now paying the price.

Killian clenches his jaw and sighs right after it. Before a new song can begin, he pulls the music out of his ears.

He needs to relax.

A calming shower will help with that. Killian walks towards the bathroom.

The previous owners chose an indigo accent for the bathroom and he kept it. His shower was decently sized. Killian had space to move and could pick up his shampoo without banging his head against the wall.

The indigo influence can also be found there in the form of blue tiles that are placed against the wall. He is still holding his phone and quickly scrolls through his music.

He is finally ready to ponder over the recent events and that calls for another playlist.

Killian has made a playlist for every situation possible. He has one filled with film music, taken from the soundtracks of his favorite motion pictures. Another list is filed as "Wretched Songs I Should Hate" In there are his guilty pleasures that reach from Journey to, dare he say it, Spice Girls. (Wannabe is catchy, alright?)

He taps on the playlist that he wants and when the first notes play, he lays it on a stool.

Off goes his shirt and other clothes, and in the shower, he goes. He opens the tap and shivers.

The first drops are icy on his skin, but soon the stream heats up. Through the dripping of the water, he hears the playlist continue.

The temperature has become scorching, but he doesn't want it any other way.

A piano piece fills the room and Killian closes his eyes. He hums alongside the music and the melody evokes a small smile on his face.

The tune perfectly represents the things he felt on his and Emma's date.

The seriousness in contrast with the carefreeness.

A smile on Emma's face, her fragrance filling his nostrils, her big, green eyes stargazing, the sound of their laughter, the silent whispers of her past, the feeling of her lips on his.

Classical music has the power to make everything clearer.

It soothes him.

He thinks back. He met Emma about 4 months ago and in those months he has always secretly admired her. She was a mystery waiting to be unraveled and each week the mystery grew. She asked him out little over a month ago.

In that short span of time, they have kissed twice and she has run out on him thrice.

That is quite an amount.

He can't comprehend why she keeps doing that. If she wasn't ready to go out on dates, why did she ask him out?

Did she think he would say no?

Or did he do change her mind? No, she had clearly said it wasn't something he did or said.

Why then?

The water trickles down on him with a regular rhythm. A drop falls just above his cheek and he sees Emma's face before him.

Eyes full of tears and not far from breaking down. She is so critical of herself. He can't understand why this stunning woman dislikes herself so much. It's clearly deeply rooted into her.

He wants to know what happened to make her like this and he wants to show her that it is completely unneeded for. He thinks back to everything that was said and the last thing she said appears in his mind again. "It's impossible for me to love someone." What does she mean by that?

She was certainly referencing to situations of her past and possibly current circumstances. Is she distancing herself from him because there is a possibility that she might fall in love with him? She panicked after she said it.

Killian goes over every little detail.

He turns his palms into a bowl and collects the clear liquid. He splashes it over his face. He places his hands against the cool surface of the tiles.

He loves her.

At least he thinks he loves her.

The song is still playing and the violins kick in.

No, he's sure. He does love her.

It only took him a total of four months to fall in love with her.

It's strange he didn't see it before but now the signs are so obvious. It didn't come up once in his thoughts until Emma said it.

It all clicks. That's why he wanted to break down her walls, why he challenged her. Killian loves her and wants to show she deserves to be loved.

The relief that comes with the understanding is countered by worry.

She ran.

Right after mentioning that familiar word. Dare he say she feels the same way? Emma is the one that brought it up.

Killian won't go as far as saying she loves him as well, but she has to have some feelings towards him. They have to talk.

He turns the shower handle and steps out of the cabin. His hair is dripping wet and he quickly reaches for a towel. When the black locks are somewhat dry, he wraps the towel around his waist. His skin is pink as a newborn, but his shoulders already feel better. He grabs a pair of trainers and a cotton shirt to sleep.

The lock screen of his phone is illuminated and Killian quickly taps the four digits of his code. He clicks the green icon and stares at his screen. His conversation with Emma has been very one-sided recently. There are only green boxes on his screen.

Does he want to discuss this with a text? He doesn't. It's far too impersonal and this is a delicate matter that needs to be discussed in real life. The question now is: how is he going to do that? The phone is locked again and Killian puts on the table.

There is no use in staying up, so he goes to bed a little less confused as he was before.

"Killian, we need to talk."

The blonde is looking angry.

"Go ahead, Tink, and don't hold back."

He already knows what this is about. He wants her to be frank. His behavior yesterday, especially the second part of the day, was terrible and he deserves what he gets.

"Oh, I will. I don't like the way you were yesterday. I know that stuff happened between you and Emma, but that doesn't give you a free pass to be a dick."

"That's harsh," he comments.

Tink raises her hand.

"I wasn't finished yet. I know that we all have this weird relationship in here, but, whether you like it or not, Aurora and I _are_ your friends and you should talk to us. We could maybe help. I just can't take it when people avoid me, so don't do it again. Or just tell me that I need to leave you alone and I will."

Tink has quite a temper, but she is also completely right.

"Tink, I apologize." Killian huffs. "It seems that is all I do lately. I was in a bad place yesterday and I should have told you."

He shrugs and suddenly two small arms come around him. Killian is so stunned that he shortly freezes.

"Tink, what are you doing?" he asks with curiosity.

"I'm being your friend," she states while still holding him.

For such a small person, she does have a tight grip. Killian doesn't have any counterarguments and hugs her back.

If that's what friends do...

"Now, let's get to work."

"Aye aye, boss!" She says with a smile and walks to the front.

"Oh and Tink?"

"Hmm?"

She turns back around.

"Don't tell Aurora about this."

"No, I won't."

Her tone is so unconvincing that Killian already knows that his other employee will know about it in about 10 minutes.

He is going to have to prepare for a lot more unprofessional hugs and caring speeches.

A small fraction of hope tells him that she'll come to him, to talk, but she doesn't the next day or the day after that, nor does she on Monday.

Killian wants to- No, he needs to talk to her.

To let her know that he doesn't care about the past and that she doesn't ruin everything. He needs to know how she feels. To be sure this isn't all unilateral.

Her face doesn't magically appear on Wednesday and Killian doesn't know what to do.

Besides her name and number, he has nothing he can really use to contact her without crossing the line. He already knows that she won't pick up the phone.

It isn't the first time Emma Swan ran out on him, but he truly hopes it's the last one.

He should have known. It's like it's embedded into his soul. The story feels quite familiar. He meets a gorgeous woman, full of intrigue and she disappears.

A tale as old as time.

 **A/N: The song that Killian listens to while showering is called Divenire by Ludovico Einaudi. It's a really gorgeous piece of contemporary classical music.**


	7. Need The Sun To Break

**A/N: It's been little over a month but I'm back with a new chapter of this story. I have to admit it took me a while to write something that I even remotely liked. This chapter marks the half of this fic, so there are some more chapters coming :)**

The slow and steady ticking of the clock is the accompanying sound of his paperwork. His fingers and pen mimic the sound on the table. The noise of the cafe sneaks through the previously silent room.

In comes Aurora. Her eyes are in search of something in the midst of the supplies. With each lower rack she reaches, the focus on her face grows. Her head goes back to the first shelf she checked. Again her gaze scans the shelves in case she missed it. Aurora sighs.

"Searching for something?" Killian asks.

She looks at the table where he is sitting.

"No. Well, yes, but it's not important." Her face tells another story.

The soft eyes have a harsh edge to them. Creases fill the space between her eyebrows and form a frown.

"Are you sure?"

Killian slides the papers out of his sight. This is not like her.

Aurora is someone who begins every day, how early it may be, with a smile and kindness and follows that principle day in, day out.

Normally there wouldn't be a further inquiry from his side. Killian would just attribute it to a bad mood and move on.

Killian was concerned without question but there was always this barrier of work and private matters and he wanted to maintain the divide. It took him a while to realize that he was the only one who saw the use of it.

Tink and Aurora had no such barrier or chose to ignore its existence. They already extensively share the intel of their lives with each other, Killian just doesn't take any part in it.

However, recently things have changed. The women are more than just colleagues, they have become friends. His only friends. Right after Tink's lecture, he followed her advice.

Be more open and be clear with what he wants.

Working in the coffeehouse has been amazing the last few days. The work they do is synchronized and precise. The number of customers has grown but, because of their new agreements, things have never gone more fluently.

Killian's all business attitude has vanished and ever since it did, the smiles are more present on his face. Only because he tore down a wall and let everything flow together.

"Yes."

The look on Aurora's face does everything but convince him.

It is his job to make sure everyone is faring well and he will not let her walk out of here clearly feeling bad.

"Aurora. What's wrong?"

He stands up. Aurora turns towards him. Another sigh escapes out of her.

"Nothing. I just had a bad night yesterday. Philip and I had a fight. A big one. He slept on the couch and by the time I got up, he already left the apartment. I wanted some comfort food but all of the pain au chocolats are finished."

"Why did you fight?"

Killian has met Philip several times and he seems like a nice man.

If Killian has retained anything out of 3 years with Aurora as his employee, it is that she isn't a fighter. She avoids them and will always try to make amends before a conflict is created.

"I can't even remember. And now I just want a pain au chocolat." She sulks.

Killian is taken aback by Aurora's behavior. This is completely the opposite of how she normally acts.

"All right. You call Philip and tell him you need to talk after work." He looks at her. She needs to follow his advice. Killian gets a confirmation. "While you do that, I'll make you a pain au chocolat."

"Really?"

The expression on Aurora's face is one of pure joy.

"Yes. Call Philip. I'll take a look at the front. Maybe Tink needs some help."

The lovely smile is back on her face and she walks over to hug him.

"Thank you, Killian."

She says while her arms link behind his back.

"You are welcome, lass. Although the hugs really need to stop."

He is immediately released. Aurora walks to the cabinet with their belongings in and fishes her phone out of it.

Killian thinks he spotted some tears but he can't be sure.

His head takes a look at the shop through the opening of the wooden door.

"Everything all right?" he mouths to Tink handling the customers.

The reply he gets is a smile and he smiles back. He raises his sleeves and ties an apron around his waist.

He has a treat to bake.

The time of contemplating is over. Killian has done enough of that. He is not that kind of man.

He's a man of action.

It is absurd how much internal struggle she has provided him with. She is special and he would be so content just by admiring her, that he knows, but if she doesn't want that, he can't force her. This is his last try.

Killian cannot consider it as giving up, he has done his fair share of holding on.

It would be moving on.

"Good afternoon."

"Hello. Your regular, I suppose?"

"But of course."

She smiles while opening her purse. Her fingers go through the content until they stumble upon her wallet. Killian takes the money off the counter and starts preparing her order.

"I'll bring it to you in a second."

The machine starts heating up the water and Killian skillfully pours it in the cup. It took him a while to gain that ability. There are several marks on his hands from being a bit too enthusiastic with boiling substances.

Above his head, the different teas are showcased. He takes one of them from in between the bag with apple and the Earl Grey tea. As soon as he opens the paper bag, his nose is hit with the delicious raspberry fragrance. The dry leaves are put in the infuser.

The moment the metal hits the water, it turns red.

Killian walks over to the baked goods display and grabs the blueberry muffin.

"Here you go."

He sets everything in front of her.

"Thank you." Mary Margaret smiles. "Your brother is very talented, you know."

She holds up a magazine with pictures. Liam's pictures. Killian lifts the corner of his mouth.

"He'll be happy to hear that."

Mary Margaret keeps browsing the pages, her attention on the photographs.

"Mary Margaret."

She looks up, again with her kind smile.

"Can I sit down? I won't take long. I just need to ask you something."

The combination of her slightly lifted lips and her eyes show that she is pleasantly surprised and also curious about what this might concern.

One mention of her name. That's what Killian's basing this entire conversation on. Mary Margaret is the one who sent Emma here.

"Of course!"

The stool opposite to her is still empty. He takes a seat there.

"What can I help you with?"

Her hand lifts the white teacup and softly blows on the water to cool it off.

It seems that it is drinkable because she takes a sip next.

"It concerns Emma Swan."

Mary Margaret looks at him.

"She told me you were the one that recommended "A Cup of Jones" so I take it you are friends."

The brunette nods lightly. It's not a direct confirmation but it's enough.

"I was wondering if she is all right."

She sets the porcelain down and lays her hands on the table. Mary Margaret's studying look finds Killian. She slightly tilts her head and conveys the impression that Mary Margaret has found a trace of what she is looking for.

"So it's you."

"Me? I'm afraid I'm a bit lost."

In reality, Killian has a feeling he understands what Mary Margaret is saying. She's telling Killian the thing he has been longing for.

He just can't be certain, with Emma nothing is sure.

"You are the guy."

Mary Margaret utters a sound of unbelief.

"The one time I actually get her to go somewhere, this happens."

The volume with which Mary Margaret speaks indicates that that last bit was meant for herself. She turns back to him. Killian keeps the blank slate on his face.

"Emma came here, didn't she?"

He tries to comment but to no avail. Mary Margaret keeps talking.

"The time we needed to watch Henry was because she was with you."

She figures it all out in a very fast pace.

Emma must've left some hints towards his existence.

"That is why she's like this."

Again, her voice becomes more hushed.

"Like what?"

Killian sees the hesitation in Mary Margaret's eyes.

Understandable.

Besides a chat now and then, the two people sitting at the table don't know each other. Mary Margaret must know he's a decent fellow but nothing more. Killian can follow the battle of pro and contras from his seat across.

"Emma hasn't been the same."

Mary Margaret says after she made a decision.

"She was looking very happy some time ago and I already suspected that an evolution in her love life might have something to do with that. All of a sudden, she was right back to being her old self. As if any progress she made had disappeared. Even more closed off than before. It was a complete change. Henry noticed it too. We all became so worried and tried to ask her but she kept evading our questions or just answered with "I'm fine." We didn't know what possessed her. Now we don't need to guess anymore. You can just tell me. What happened, Killian?"

She drinks her tea again.

"I can't tell you precisely. I know that I had an amazing time on our date and I thought she did too. After that she completely ignored me and when I asked her, she told me that she was unlovable."

The image of Emma's teary face is back.

"And that she ruins everyone's life."

Killian drags his gaze back to Mary Margaret. Her green eyes show that she is familiar with Emma's breakdowns.

Can you call it a breakdown when everything is already crumbled in pieces on the ground?

Everything except for Emma's concrete walls, there to protect her heart from malevolent intruders.

"Oh, Emma. She has always thought that. All of us, my husband and I, Henry, Ruby and other friends, have tried to make her clear that it's not true. Not in the slightest bit. Emma still has a hard time believing it."  
Mary Margaret's left-hand rests on the now closed magazine containing Liam's photos. Killian notices her ring. A green stone embedded into silver.

It's strange but never before has he noticed she was married.

"Emma's past wasn't the easiest one and life has left her quite some scars."

"I know, she told me small pieces of it," Killian says.

She mentioned growing up without parents. Emma shared the story about the film tape and raising Henry with Killian. There is one crucial part still missing: Henry's father, but Killian has a feeling that is the most painful memory.

Mary Margaret looks surprised.

"She did?"

He confirms with a nod.

"That tells a lot. It took ages before she told me anything and I'm something like a sister to her. She is incredibly close with my husband David but he had the same exact treatment."

The things Mary Margaret tells him, help Killian connect little things Emma has told him. Like little dots that need to be linked to form a bigger picture.

She had mentioned Henry's aunt and uncle. By the manner Mary Margaret describes David and Emma's relationship, Killian would suspect that those two people are Mary Margaret and her husband themselves.

And if _they_ think Emma changed, if _Henry_ thinks that Emma changed after being with him, it must mean that he has left something with her.

That he had an influence on her.

He was planning on only making sure Emma was all right and then erasing her from his mind, but he can't now.

How could he?

She is special. Unique. There's nobody like her. Nothing like her smile.

It might take a while before she gives you the honor of seeing it, but the moment you do, it's the only one you want to see. What he would give to see it again.

He looks at Mary Margaret, taking a bite off her muffin. This is an opportunity. One of the people Emma cares the most for and trusts is sitting before him. She has to be able to change something.

"Can you help me?"

Mary Margaret tries to figure out his motives. The dark green eyes become intense. She gets rid of the crumbs on her hands and folds them in front of her.

"I wish I could. Anyone can see that you want the best for her but she doesn't like it- actually, she hates it- when I meddle. I don't know how I can convince her. I'm sorry, Killian."

"The only thing I need is Emma here. I'll attempt to take care of the rest. Could you just try to get her here? That's all I ask."

One-half of Mary Margaret's lips are turned upwards. Her head moves up and down.

"Alright. I'll make sure she's here. I trust you to bring back that Emma we saw a glimpse of."

Killian feels relieved and smiles.

"I'll do my absolute best."

He stands up. His little break has taken long enough and Aurora is serving everyone on her own.

Before leaving the table, he thanks Mary Margaret.

"Don't worry about it. I guess we all want to see Emma happy."

Killian definitely does.

 **A/N: Title comes from Need the Sun to Break by James Bay. If you want to give me a review, I'll give you cookie (or an imaginary one)**


	8. Close Your Eyes

**A/N: I should probably stop making promises in terms of my updates, because I am not even reaching my own deadlines. Here's the new chapter. The title comes from (another) RHODES song. I hope you like the reunion of our two favorite people.**

"Are you nervous?"

The fast thumping in his chest cavity answers that question. The past half hour the speed of his heart beating has increased considerably. Every second that ticks away means an extra heartbeat. Nervous is an understatement.

"Yes," Killian replies to Aurora's question. "It's been awhile since I've seen her and last time we didn't really leave things on the right foot."

Two weeks have gone by since the talk Killian had with Emma's best friend Mary Margaret. After the promise on her part to invite Emma -you can also say lure but that makes the entire thing a bit more shady- to the coffeehouse and to cause a conversation between Emma and him, she had kept him updated on any progress. Eventually Mary Margaret succeeded and set a date for a meeting.

Today.

He's going to see her again today.

It is needed. He has all of these things he wants to tell her. Things that she needs to hear and indulging into her radio silence just won't do.

"I'm certain it will work, Killian," Aurora says, her hand settling on his shoulder and giving a squeeze of encouragement. A testimony of her support in the matter. Something Killian appreciates a lot.

"Thank you."

A shuddering breath escapes. He is too stressed. It's not the best combination: Killian and stress, but he just can't help it. So he tries to defer his internal tension by putting the focus on Aurora's life.

"How is everything going between you and Philip?"

The question causes a small smile on the woman's face, a sweet one indicating that the quarrel she and her husband had, is over. Her pale hand goes up to remove an auburn lock clouding her vision.

"Great. Amazing even. We discussed our fight and you were right. Philip had some trouble at work and was upset about that. And with my hormones going crazy due to the pregnancy, it kind of gave it an explanation." she says.

It takes Killian a few seconds to realize what Aurora's announcing. She's expecting a baby.

"Aurora, how joyful! Congratulations!" he replies to the news.

Killian must admit that he is relieved. In the back of his mind it all makes sense now. The cravings she had and the significant mood swings. Its cause could be found with the child and not one of the theories full of pessimism Killian cooked up.

"Thank you. It's still early and it will be months until I actually quit working, so don't worry about it yet," she says while sending him a reassuring look.

"I don't need to. I'll just have to give Tink a full-time contract in your absence. I'm fairly amazed that she hasn't suggested it herself."

Killian grins. His legs take him to the door to turn the open sign and with that to welcome the crowd of the morning rush. He walks back to Aurora, who is placing the sweet and savory treats in a way that they just look that bit more appealing.

She continues their conversation.

"That's probably because I haven't told her yet."

The small contraction of his brows shows his confusion.

Tink is one of Aurora's best friends. Surely it can't be right that she's told him before her best friend. It most likely was a slip. Her mouth speaking before her mind could catch up and then she just went with it. Or it could be that Killian is her boss and she thought it would be best that he's informed early on.

That's it.

But Killian can't keep himself from asking.

"You haven't told Tink yet?"

Aurora shakes her head and her curls softly move along.

"I haven't seen her since we found out," she says as a simple explanation.

"Who _have_ you told?" Killian asks.

He pretends like it's a question of no great importance, but secretly the answer does mean a lot to him.

Aurora gets a pensive expression on her face, backtracking the people she has told the happy news.

"Well, there's you, Mulan."

That's a name Killian hasn't heard before. Aurora picks up the unfamiliarity and explains, "She's Philip's best friend and a great one of mine, too. Obviously we told my dad and Philip's parents, but that's it. Besides them, we haven't told anyone else yet. That will come when we see them, of course. I'm not really a fan of telling people via text or email." She scrunches her nose to emphasize her distaste.

"Which is understandable," Killian agrees.

His lips close in a silent um while he's scanning the room for things that need to be done. Killian doesn't know what else to reply. He's one of the first people to know the girl is pregnant. That's a big role and he is merely her boss. Aurora telling him shows that he's more than her boss, that he's her friend.

The strange thing is Killian considers her his friend. Why does everything freak him out lately? He should get a grip.

"Killian, are you alright?" A trace of concern is being expressed by Aurora's features.

"Aye, fine. I just forgot to place the board outside. I'll quickly do that if you don't mind."

The chalkboard is lifted off the ground and hauled outside. The big, white letters (courtesy of Tink) on the black background promote the shop.  
 _  
A Cup of Jones, the finest brand you'll ever get._

Killian had to train himself to not cringe every time he reads the slogan his brother Liam decided would be perfect.

How can the notion perfect differ so much in their minds?

Shrugging, Killian walks back inside. It's been some time since he's heard something from Liam. The last letter Killian sent to him was before all of the Emma drama. He mentally counts the weeks that have passed. Eventually he comes to the conclusion that a letter from Liam should arrive shortly and he's glad. He misses his brother.

The first customers follow behind Killian and officially start the day.

"Good morning and welcome to "A Cup of Jones". What can I get you?"

* * *

His eyes skim over the letters another time.

 _Hello, Killian.  
It took me some time, but I've finally succeeded. Emma has agreed to meet me (you) on Wednesday the 17th. I told her to come around 11.30 am. Good luck. Mary Margaret  
_  
Next, they go up to the clock hanging in front of him. Any moment now. He tries not to focus on the door opening and closing, but fails. With each movement his eyes fly over to the entrance and then go back to his work, disappointed when it's not her golden locks coming in but bland, brown ones. When it's not her red jacket, but a green coat. When it's not Emma, but an insignificant person.

The door opens again and it's finally who he has been waiting on. Her eyes have a distrustful look, like a skittish, wild animal carefully treading on unknown territory. Killian can't blame her, a lot of things have happened here and it's still his shop. The moment Emma is completely inside, she instantly turns. She walks over to an empty corner, her gaze not even daring to go to the counter. A brown, leather chair is placed there and Emma sits down in it. Her beanie stays on her head and she doesn't take off her jacket. She's ready to bolt if needed.

Killian takes a breath and cautiously approaches. If he thought his heart was beating fast before, he was wrong. He feels the beating reverberate in his entire body. A step further from the counter, another step closer to her. His chest rises with the last breath he takes, trying to gather his courage.

"Emma," he says to her back. The sound of his voice is more secure than he felt or than he was expecting.

Emma flinches, her entire face wincing only by hearing him. Her green irises are hidden by her closed eyelids as she straightens her back.

And so it evaporates. The last bit of hope.

He wants to go back, back to the counter pretending like he never approached her, maybe even back in time. Before he knew her. He was lonely back then, but never did it feel this agonizing. Just him being near to her makes her uncomfortable.

Killian considers it, he really does, but realization strikes. If he doesn't, Emma has come here for no reason. Mary Margaret deceived her best friend for nothing. Aurora and Tink have helped him for nothing. He has spent weeks thinking of her, missing her, wanting to see her for exactly that.

Nothing.

"I realize that you were expecting Mary Margaret," he carefully commences, "And I'm presumingly the last person that you want to see, but I simply felt that if I didn't tell you something, I'd never truly be able to conclude whatever it is we had."

Emma's eyes are open again; her look is indecisive. As if she doesn't know what to feel. Killian wants to snort, neither does he. He lets his words linger in the air for a moment, giving her the chance to stop him and to end it all herself.

The moment passes and her eyes are still on his. Killian attributes it to her curiosity, to her wanting to know what direction he's going. He doesn't dare to place it on anything else.

"It's odd, you know? I've known you for mere months and somehow I've already held several monologs. I can assure you that this is the last one." His lips curl.

"Emma, you have to love yourself," he says candidly, "I'm saying this as someone who spent ages- and I mean ages- loathing himself over things that happened in the past. Everyone has a past and yours is no different. So please, stop seeing it as an excuse to detest yourself. Because it's obscuring the truth from you. You are an incredible woman, I have said that before but you don't believe it and you should."

Emma's gaze has wandered to the coffee table, staring at it with great purpose. Killian, still standing up next to the chair where she's sitting, continues.

"Don't you see, Emma? You have all of these people who love you, with all of their hearts and you're hurting them by saying things like you ruin everyone's life. They are right beside you and if you'd just listen more, you would hear how you've improved their lives. It's all right to be happy, to live your life and love yourself. It takes some work, I for one know, but you'll feel so much better."

Killian stops talking, not having anything else prepared and being convinced that the things he needed to say have been said. If this doesn't do it, he has no idea what will. He looks back at Emma, who has moved her stare from the table to the wall.

It's silent, it has been for a while and Killian is still located in the same spot. His hand goes up to rub his head.

"Um, that's about everything I wanted to say. I hope I haven't been too out of line."

No answer from Emma's side.

"All right, goodbye, Emma and take care of yourself," he finally says, lifting his foot to tread backward.

It doesn't sting as much as he thought it would, saying goodbye to her. Instead, it feels liberating. Like he's able to move again after spending too much time in a confined space.

Killian spins on his feet to turn around but Emma's hand is there to stop him before he can. He follows the arm blocking him alongside her shoulder covered with her blond hair, her neck, ultimately halting at her face. Tears are creating a path; from spilling out of her eyes to running over her cheeks. Her lips move, the sound coming out of them so soft that Killian has to ask what she has said.

Softly shaking her head, she repeats.

"Don't go."

Killian gulps a breath of air and comes closer to her again. He places himself on his knees to get a better look at her. His upper legs touch the worn leather of the seat. Instinctively, his thumbs go and brush away the tears from her creamy skin.

"Just don't go." Her shaking enhances, Killian wraps his hands around her face.

"I won't," is his simple reply.

Their heads rest against one another, noses brushing and the only thing Killian can think is "I love you." and it's far too premature for that and they barely even know each other and it'll be some time before he can actually tell her that and still, that's how he feels.

Emma closes the minuscule distance between them by connecting their lips. Her cheeks are still wet and Killian knows she is still crying.

"Why are you still crying, love?" he asks in soft tone when the kiss is over.

Emma sniffs and uses her wrist to wipe away the new stream of tears.

"I don't know. It's all a bit overwhelming, I guess," Emma admits. "Thank you, Killian."

"I did nothing, Swan." Killian shrugs.

"But you did," she says, kissing him again, smothering any attempt to lessen the effect of his actions.

"My shift is over; do you want to take a stroll around the park?"

There's a lot they need to talk about and a stroll would be the perfect opportunity for that.

Emma smiles, a sight he has missed and he automatically copies it.

"I'd love to, but I have to go and get Henry from school."

Killian's lips form an o. Henry is one of those things they have never really discussed. Killian would gladly meet the boy, to get to know him, but how long will it take before Emma is willing to let them interact?

"Do you want to come with?" she asks, like she's read his mind. Her hands trace his jawline while her eyes only radiate softness.

"With all my pleasure, Swan."

* * *

You have a boat?" The boy looks completely amazed.

"Aye, I do," Killian replies, "Her name is the Jolly Roger Junior."

"I love Peter Pan! It's my favorite fairytale."

They're sitting on a bench, the three of them, talking and munching on the bagels from the coffeehouse. The park is full of life and children now that the school day is over.

Killian had slowly followed Emma to Henry's school, unsure of the boy's reaction to a strange man accompanying his mother to come pick him up. Killian's gaze scanned all of the children. He had no clue what Henry looked like but perhaps he could recognize some of Emma's traits in him.

Suddenly he stood before them, Emma's son, smiling at his mother. Henry's brown eyes quickly went to Killian and for a second neither Emma nor Killian were able to find the right words. They weren't even able to utter anything. So Henry had simply extended his hand towards Killian and introduced himself, getting rid of all the unnecessary tension.

Killian chuckles, yet another thing they have in common. Emma has been silent for a while, simply following the connecting between the two people sitting on both sides of her. Her face glows with happiness.

"I'll tell you a secret, lad." Killian leans closer to them, his voice a not so quiet whisper. "I like Captain Hook better than I like Peter Pan. I think it is because I'm a bit of a scoundrel meself."

He winks and Emma raises her brow in a challenge, a smile planted on her face.

"But you have to admit that that perm and the waxed mustache are unforgivable."

"Swan, I'll have you know that in the book Captain James Hook is described as a handsome man with eyes the color of a forget-me-not. So I'm not taking any of your Disney nonsense."

"He's got a point, mom," Henry admits.

Emma raises her hands in defense, already being overmastered by their joined forces. Her smile never falters, though.

"Alright, alright. I said nothing." She turns towards Killian. "Killian, do you think Henry and I could join you some time on your boat?"

She is making plans for the future. It may be the near future but at least it's being acknowledged. And he's bonding with her son. Does this mean they've suddenly become an item? It's nearly impossible that they haven't. Killian's heart leaps. This is what he wanted.

"Give me a date and I'll show you the captain's life on the sea," he agrees.

"Thank you, Killian!" Henry says.

"You are very welcome, lad."

He smiles at the boy and gets a wide grin in return.

"Henry, we need to go," Emma says.

Henry immediately shows that he doesn't want to with the sad expression on his face. Before he can complain about it, Emma already opens her mouth to speak with her rational mom voice.

"Didn't you promise to clean your room before you went to Avery's house?" The question is only rhetorical and leaves no room for Henry to argue.

"Yes…"

Henry still tries to find an argument but fails.

"Alright," he reluctantly agrees.

"Bye, Killian. It was very nice to meet you, I really had fun today."

Killian sees the genuine disappointment and earnestness in his goodbye. He feels it too.

"Goodbye, Henry. I enjoyed myself as well. I was serious about the sailing. Just make your mom send me a text and I'll happily take you out."

It makes Henry's disappointment disappear a little bit. They are all standing up now and Emma lightly drifts towards him. Henry quickly catches on and starts fumbling with his mobile phone.

"Thank you, Killian. For every bit of today," she says, looking him right in the eye. He's hit again by her and her beauty.

"Think nothing of it, Swan."

Emma's hand finds its way to his jaw, softly caressing the short hairs of his scruff. She doesn't answer but just places her cottony lips on his.

He can't deny that his pessimistic nature is lurking in the background waiting until something goes wrong again. Hiding in the shadows until its big 'I told you so' moment. Time to unravel the plot, it had been a trick since the start. A conspiracy of his mind. Business is thriving and they have never been more frequented by people. He has the support of his employees, he's able to call them his friends. Emma. Henry.

Emma.

It all seems too good to be true, but for today, he'll close his eyes and happily indulge in that fantasy.

Killian relishes the kiss and doesn't want it to stop but Emma's more or less teenage son is still standing next to them, so picking the better option, Killian breaks the kiss apart. However, he still can't refrain himself from tracing her face with his knuckles and she can't resist leaning her cheek into his touch.

"Goodbye, Emma." The way he says it lies somewhere between saying and sighing it.

"Bye, Killian," she replies, "I'll text you."

Emma doesn't specify about what but Killian would take anything.

She runs her tongue over her lips and turns around to Henry. Laying her arm around his shoulder, they start walking. Emma glances back a last time and smirks.

She'll be the actual death of him.

* * *

He's walking home and it seems like his smile is glued to his face. His hand goes to partially cover it in amazement. Killian's happy. Truly happy. This must be one of the first times he's felt this way since he left England. He runs up the stairs, having found a new source of energy and walks inside his apartment.

The scent of the stew brewing floats through the room, leaving a delicious aroma in every corner. He feels something vibrate in his pocket and speedily sets down the spoon he was using to determine if the concoction needed more spicing. His phone appears from under the material of his pants. Killian has received a text. From Emma. The grin only broadens.

 ** _Henry says (and I quote) that you're cool and that he likes you. I thought you would want to know. -E_**

 _Did he now? And what does his lovely mother think?_

Killian doesn't need to see her to know that the moment she reads that text, she'll roll her eyes, but most likely with a smile on her face.

 ** _I guess you're alright. Not too hard on the eyes, okay kisser, though the accent could use some work -E_**

 _You wound me, Swan. Here I was, wanting to use every form of (positive) superlative I know and you say that._

Killian sets down his phone to get something to drink. His hand reaches for the handle of the wooden cupboard, opens the door and takes out glass. After taking it, he walks to the sink and opens the tap to let the glass fill. Because of its placement on the table, the buzzing of his cell phone is enhanced. At first it buzzes once, but then another time and Killian realizes that he's being called.

Glass in hand, he runs over to the table in his living room and sees "Emma" written largely on his screen. His fingers instantly swipe to take the call.

"Okay," she starts, "Maybe you're gorgeous and an amazing kisser and maybe your accent kinda turns me on and I might really like you," Emma says in one breath.

Killian chuckles.

"I've never been this showered with compliments. Emma, the feeling is mutual. The only difference is that I know you're gorgeous and an amazing kisser. Besides, I just really like you."

Killian also really loves her.

"Good," Emma answers.

"Not that I mind, love, but did you call only to say that?"

Killian settles in his couch, taking a sip of his water while waiting on her answer.

"If I sent you that as a text, I'm sure you would've taken a screenshot of it and sent it to all of your friends to brag."

Killian doesn't reply. He knows it isn't the real reason, so he waits until she thinks she can tell him.

"Alright, I feel like we have a lot to discuss and I would love to do it face to face. I even considered coming over seeing that Henry's not home, but I got scared."

Even though finding out Emma became scared isn't ideal, it is a big step. She's admitting it, telling him her problems. More importantly, she is not running.

"There's no need for that, Emma," Killian reassures her, "We'll take it slow. I'm a patient man."

She giggles through the line.

"I've noticed that. How you haven't given up on me already, beats me, but I'm really happy about that, Killian."

"I am too."

He gets back up, walking towards the stove to turn it off. It would be a shame for one of his first decent meals in weeks to be burnt and ruined. He speaks again.

"How's work?"

They talk for hours, first starting with a tentative conversation about banalities, work and life in general. He tells her that Aurora's pregnant, she tells him that Ruby is getting married to her girlfriend. But as the hour progresses, they start digging deeper. Their pasts, the reason why they are both jagged, the subject they both avoid with great care, get partially unfolded. They talk about loneliness, the loneliness Killian felt when he arrived to the States without any friends or family to rely on, Emma mentions her solitude right after she gave birth to Henry and right before she met David.

Eventually, they both take the conversation to bed, separately tucking themselves in while still keeping the connection between them. One ear pressed against the soft pillow, the other against the hard phone.

Killian has heard her yawn several times and he has trouble to keep his own eyes open but he can't get himself to end the call. There are brief intermissions where he thinks she's fallen asleep, where he only hears her breathing and then she whispers to him again.

"Swan?" he says after a long pause.

"Yes?"

"You should go to sleep. You are clearly exhausted."

Killian stares into the dark room, his eyes not able to distinguish anything in the black of the night.

"No, no. I'm alright."

She tries to make her tone sound convincing but her sleepiness makes it completely void of any form of persuasion.

"You are about two seconds away from falling asleep on me, Swan. You should rest. We can continue talking tomorrow."

"You promise?" she asks with small voice

"I promise. Sleep well, love."

"You, too, Killian."

He lifts the corners of his mouth in a smile and ends the call. He can't wait to talk to her again.

* * *

There's music playing. Why is there music playing in the middle of the night?

Killian opens his eyelids. As the sleep slowly ebbs away, he recognizes his ringtone. He turns to his side to able to reach his phone on the nightstand.

 _Unknown number_

He emits a sigh and pushes himself upright in his bed. His finger swipes to answer the call.

"Hello?" he says after clearing his throat.

"Hello, is this Killian Jones?" a man says.

"Yes"

"Good day, Mr. Jones."

The British accent of the man explains why he's being called right now. It's 10 am in London. The man continues.

"I'm calling with news concerning your brother Liam Jones."

No.

 **A/N: I'm so sorry guys! Please don't hate me for that ending, it pains me as much as you but it's just where my muse took me. I did say that the angst was only beginning. I'll try to update quickly (reviews do help accelerate that process ;) )**


	9. Hometown Glory

**A/N: First of all, sorry that it took me two months again and I'm sad to tell you that my exams are coming so no new chapters for at least 3 more weeks. Secondly, this is quite a sad chapter and it kind of revolves around death, so a little warning about that. It wrecked my soul, too.**

Like he said: it was only a matter of time before life would screw him over.

He just didn't think it would be like this.

It starts with disbelief. He is surely still asleep and is being scourged by a nightmare. A very vivid one.

When he was a little child, Killian would often have bad dreams. The kind where you woke up disoriented, with a layer of sweat coating your forehead. Your chest heaving of distress and fingers clenching the rumpled sheets. Liam was a sound sleeper and chances were he would not even wake if the room was filled with soaring flames, so Killian just lied awake staring at the ceiling, trying to separate fiction from reality.

Of course everything the man is telling a load of crap. His brother is safe, sailing around with a camera in his one hand and a beer in the other. Relishing in the exotic sun with not a cloud in the sky. It's just a foul antic to fool him.

But as the seconds tick away, Killian can't even believe that. There's this forlornness. Like he's no one anymore. Everything he was and stood for vanished with only one phone call. Liam is- was. The past tense. Because he's not here anymore. Liam was the person who had defined him. Who had molded and raised Killian into the person he was today. Without Liam, there was no Killian. There is no Killian.

Killian brings his hands up to his head and pulls at any strands he manages to find. The room is still distinguished by darkness, it being only shy of five. The comfort nighttime had always brought him before is nowhere to be found. He couldn't just close his eyes and relax when his brother, his only brother, his only family, is no longer here. The anger rolls over him.

In a surge, he throws his phone across the room where it lands with a sound not prevailing anything good. But he just can't make himself care. There's a storm swirling inside of his head, absorbing everything positive and good in his mind. A storm filled with vexation and fury. Why did Liam go out to sail when he knew bad weather was coming? Why? He was a fine sailor who knew challenging nature was not a great idea. Killian can still hear his voice repeating that same warning over and over every time even the smallest of cloud appeared, the slightest surge of wind took place or the littlest of wave hit the Jolly.

"A fine sailor does not only know how to sail a ship, but also knows when not to sail a ship."

How fucking hypocritical of Liam to keep saying that to him, but not do it himself.

How fucking stupid that he went and got himself killed.

Oh god.

He's dead.

Tears form and tears fall. Instead of the air of his bedroom, his lungs yearn for fresh air. Maybe not his lungs but his brain, to clear everything from it. Or at least pretend. Heavily panting, Killian runs towards the window, nearly tripping over the carpet next to his bed. He forcefully turns the window's handle to let it open. The cool, slightly polluted morning air hits Killian and he inhales like a swimmer coming up after a long dive. His eyes, still flooding with tears, roam over the almost completely streets. A group of young people is walking home, clearly from a night clubbing and talking with voices too loud for the hour.

Killian doesn't know how long he watches, but at a some point the lonely souls wandering over the dark, barely illuminated streets turn into early risers on their morning run and people going to work.

At a certain moment, Killian runs out of tears to shed and just stands there. Goosebumps spread all over the skin of his chest, the cold causing them together with a blue-ish shine. The cold doesn't trouble him, though, because he has other things to worry about. Not one second does he stop thinking of his brother but the acceptance… Well, the acceptance never comes.

* * *

It's raining when he arrives. The perfect "welcome home" gift. No, not home, he would not call it that. It has been a long time since England was Killian's home. It was his home when their mother was there, his home he could return to when Liam was still there, but now it meant nothing. Nothing but pain and memories he could only try to remember.

Sighing, he yells for a cab to take him to the place he has so carefully avoided for years.

Liam had no problem with living in their childhood house. No problem with the thoughts that lingered in the rooms or the loud cries that traveled through the walls, but Killian couldn't ignore them. So, he had fled. Out of the city, out of the country and even out of the continent. He needed to, in order for him to start over. Liam was always the braver one, the stronger one. He was able to be a man of honor, staying and rebuilding a house that had suffered through so much. Killian didn't doubt that while Liam spent time fixing windows and walls, he simultaneously repaired himself.

The car halts in front of the all too familiar door and house number. The heavy rain has stopped, but there is still drizzle trickling on the streets. Killian doesn't bother to open his umbrella. While the driver is walking towards the trunk to get Killian's luggage, Killian grabs his wallet. Out of it, he takes money to pay his ride. Because the 50-something man understood with one glance that Killian was in no mood for small talk, he kept it quiet, something Killian appreciates. He adds some extra pounds to show his gratitude.

"Here you go," he says, getting out of the car.

It's like they have an illegal trade off. Killian's luggage for the money. Drugs for hard cash. On any other day Killian would smile.

"Thanks, lad." The money disappears in the grey haired man's back pocket. "Whatever it is, you'll get through it," he continues in a very dialected English.

Killian nods with acknowledgement and steps away from the car, towards the front door. The children playing next door are laughing, too happy for Killian's taste. The sound the doorbell makes, seems too quirky. How can they continue, when he's not here anymore?

The door opens and reveals a woman with long, dark curls, wearing a dark blue dress.

"Killian," she says with a sad smile. Her body approaches Killian to give him a hug. This must be the girl Liam was talking about in his letter. His new girlfriend. Killian is meeting his brother's girlfriend for the first time and his brother isn't even alive to see it. Tensed, Killian lightly pats on her back. Liam never even told him her name.

"I am so glad you're here," she muffles against Killian shirt.

She is a petite woman, her head not even surpassing Killian's shoulder, but Killian instantly feels that that isn't the case with her heart.

"I'm sorry, lass," Killian speaks, "But I'm afraid my brother never mentioned your name." The embrace is over, both of them reminded that they are strangers and taking the appropriate distance. Her grey eyes widen, as if she had forgotten that they've never met.

"Oh, of course." Her index, nail polished with burgundy color, tucks a brown strand behind her ear. "I'm Hazel."

Killian softly smiles as a reply, feeling the jet lag kick in all of a sudden.

"Come in, I'm sure you are dead tired and could use some rest." Hazel picks up. She takes a step sideways, granting Killian entrance to the house.

Although a lot has changed, Killian only notices the things that have not. The green color of the living room wall. The big bookcase Liam and he used to hide behind while playing hide and seek. The place where the desk stands, still the same after over 20 years.

"If you want, you can stay in the guest room. It's a bit messy right now, I wasn't really expecting you, but nothing that can't be cleaned up in minutes."

After he heard the news, Killian had just booked the first flight he found, almost immediately leaving for the airport. His phone had suffered of the anger he felt that night and hadn't shown any sign of life since then. He would have to buy a new one here.

"Apologies for not letting you know I was coming, I didn't really think about it," Killian confesses.

Hazel shakes her head to show that she doesn't mind.

"Nonsense, there's no need to be sorry. It's your house too. Liam-" She bites down on her lower lip, eyes casted somewhere in the room. "Liam would have wanted it like this."

Her eyes meet Killian's again, a watery edge to them.

"I'll let you settle in and sleep for a bit. We can talk later."

Gone she is, while closing the door. Leaving Killian in the room he spent so much time in, so very long ago. The first thing he notices is the picture of their mother, the same one that Killian has in his apartment. The tears return to blur the vision of his blue eyes and Killian sets his suitcase down. He drops his body on the sheets of the bed. A smell of lavender fills his nostrils. Freshly washed sheets. Perhaps Hazel was expecting him anyway.

Close his eyes, defer his thoughts, sleep. All things he should do, but just can't. It's like an invisible weight on his chest; there being nothing, but silence and his thoughts. A burden keeping Killian from breathing properly. Preventing his body from relaxing. Regardless of how hard he tries to get rid of it physically: tossing and turning, trying the flat of his back, the uncomfortable position on his side, it simply stays there, caging him in.

Suddenly, the previously crushing silence is chased away by sobs coming from downstairs. As they grow louder and more frantic, Killian contemplates on descending the stairs. Some people prefer to be alone. To deal with grief in their own way. He knows that. But there's something in the way Hazel had clung to him before. With such relief that there was someone. As if he was the person she needed right now. Well, second best to the person she needed right now.

Judging from Liam's letter, Hazel and he had only been in a relationship for a couple of months max. Months can do a lot to a person, however.

The third step of the stairs groans under Killian's weight, signaling the end of his so-called rest. The weeping sounds decrease quickly and when Killian arrives downstairs, the brunette rapidly wipes the palms of her hands over her cheeks, ridding herself of the last proof.

"All rested up?" Hazel asks, half a smile on her lips and a false cheer in her voice.

"Didn't close an eye," Killian replies frankly.

Hazel's smile falters. Her eyes search for Killian's and seemingly find the same trace of emotional, physical and mental exhaustion in his.

"I need to plan the funeral and I'm really not ready for it," she then admits.

Killian motions towards the table and takes a seat himself. Perhaps they could share agony. Perhaps they could get to know each other. The two most important people in his brother's life should know each other.

Thus, they talk. Every conversation has a common theme: Liam. Stories and stories. Laughs and cries. Hazel keeps on talking, the words trickling out of her like fresh water from a creek. She tells so many stories that it seems impossible for them to have taken place in the span of months. The tenderness with which she tells them is a deep rooted love. One that doesn't appear instantly but gradually grows, branch after branch over time. Killian has to ask, because something isn't adding up.

"Hazel, my brother and you. How long were you..."

His eyebrows slightly crease and Hazel shrugs as response.

"A while," is her simple answer.

It shows how insignificant she finds it, but it is important to Killian.

"Longer than the few months my brother told me, right?"

Hazel partially hides her face behind her curled left hand, pressing her lips against the knuckles of her fist. The movement is nearly imperceptible at first, but her head moves up and down to confirm Killian's hunch. Her stare is fixated on the table forged out of light wood.

"Tell me."

There's no reason Killian can come up with why they might've lied about that or why they would want to withhold the truth. None at all.

The hesitance with which Hazel speaks is drawn on her features.

"Four years," she says.

Killian's hand goes to cover his mouth, something needed to keep his jaw from dropping. Four years? How was that even possible? That's as long as he has "A Cup of Jones." Solely by surprise, Killian doesn't react for a while, lets the two words simmer between them.

Bloody hell. Four years.

"So, when he came to visit me in the States?" Killian finally speaks.

"Not yet. It happened right after that."

It's just impossible to wrap his mind around.

"Four years," he says, his voice infused with incredulity. "How could he keep you a secret for so long?"

"We were going to tell you, but at first we wanted to wait until things got a bit more serious. Then our first anniversary came and our second. We were so happy but after that we hit a rough patch. Your brother was gone the entire time for work and at first I admired it, but then I started to feel lonely. We nearly broke up and after that we needed some time for ourselves. To mend what had been ripped. A couple months after that, he sent you the letter."

Hazel stands up, smoothing her dress with her hands. She asks if Killian wants some tea and he agrees, secretly craving a good cup of English tea. Towards the kitchen she walks, going to place a kettle on the stove.

Killian still doesn't feel like he's hearing the complete story. He knows- knew his brother. Liam didn't do things without a reason. When Hazel returns, Killian is in deep thought, only being shaken out of it when the steaming, porcelain cup is placed in front of him.

"But why not tell me in the first two years? Two years is most definitely long enough for a steady relationship."

She takes a breath as if she wants to say something. Then she huffs it back out when she can't figure out the way to formulate it.

Hazel eventually settles on "Liam didn't want to."

Her middle finger softly traces circles on the wood, producing a faint noise.

"He felt guilty to leave you in Boston all alone. You didn't have friends or people you could rely on and he did. Because he stayed and you left."

Killian never expected his brother to follow him to the U.S., never asked him that. It was a well thought-out decision. For Killian. Liam had other things to do and wanted other things

"But that was my own choice. I chose to leave and start over. It might've taken a while but I was alright with that," he says.

Yeah, it took a while, but he has found his place and friends and people he could rely on. Just like Liam wanted.

"He just didn't want to start bragging about how happy we were when you were all alone, 3000 miles away," Hazel tells.

How could Killian be mad at someone who always put his own happiness on the second place? And did it for so long without him knowing about it.

"The selfless bastard," Killian puffs.

"Yes, that he was." Hazel smiles knowingly.

* * *

It's a true miracle when on the day they chose for Liam's funeral the droopy, English weather makes place for the sun. When Hazel prepares herself to say a word, Killian sends her a reassuring smile.

It's been difficult the past week, figuring out the details and meticulously planning everything from music to guests, to how the obituary would look. So many things go into a funeral. So many things Killian never wants to do again. He and Hazel might not always have seen eye to eye on some aspects but no way he would've survived without her.

By the time he has to speak, Killian is crying openly and he has stopped attempting to wipe them away. He clears his throat to speak.

Draft after draft ended in the trash, no words being good enough to describe his brother. When he did find the words, it was impossible to pour them into a sentence. There were just too many adjectives, too many superlatives needed to paint Liam's picture. If his brother had heard his speech he probably would have said something in the lines of: "Little brother, there is also such a thing as exaggerating." But that was unimaginable.

Killian returns to the spot Hazel is standing and watches the rest of the service besides her. After it ends, they get approached by everyone.

They had asked all of the invitees to bring a picture that reminded them of Liam. One he took or one with him on it, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that he is remembered by the thing he loved so dearly: photography.

So everyone comes to say their condolences and hands them the photograph they chose. One of Liam's coworkers steps away and reveals a face that Killian hasn't seen in 22 years. His black hairs are streaked by silver ones, the area around his eyes and forehead bears more wrinkles than it used to, but besides that, he looks exactly the same.

Killian schools his features into a look of indifference.

"Who invited you?" he asks dryly, void of any emotion.

"I did," Hazel replies before the man can.

Killian looks at his sister-in-law, standing a bit taller than she actually is.

"It's time to heal old wounds, Killian," she continues.

The man hands him a picture. The ends have small tears in them and have gone yellow. It's hard to distinguish but when Killian looks closer he recognizes his own face and Liam's.

"I don't feel up for this right now," he says, handing the picture back.

"Please, son." He places a hand on Killian's shoulder.

"Do not touch me, Brennan." Killian brutally pulls his shoulder from under his father's touch. It looks like Killian calling his father by his first name also shocked Brennan.

"Just don't." Killian starts walking away. "I'm not ready." He mumbles a small sorry to Hazel and leaves her standing there.


	10. Pieces

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but new chapters are coming! This is another Emma-less one but the next will be completely dedicated to our savior and her PoV. Pieces by Trixie Whitley is an amazing song. I hope you enjoy.**

Step by step he's getting further. Away from his father, away from the bad thoughts crushing anything else. Branches snap under his determined strump. It doesn't take long before his feet land on the hard concrete of the street. He keeps walking, no specific direction in mind. The air turns humid and the scent of rain fills Killian's nostrils. And indeed the first drops fall.

Leaving his own brother's funeral that hurriedly is atrocious. He left Hazel alone with all of the mourners and responsibility for everything, despite their promise to support each other. Killian could just not help to think of the moment when Liam and he, just small, innocent children, discovered that their father was indeed gone. He can still recall the moment where his heart completely shattered.

The grief over their mother still ached and the bastard decided to leave. Chose to abandon his sons. Their mother didn't have a choice, she fought against the illness. She tried to stay with them until her breathing slowed down and her pulse stopped, until she was forced to quit.

It is a stark contrast.

* * *

Killian stands still. It seems he was not only running away from things but getting closer to something too. The big brass letters are those he has seen many times before. They seem smaller now, but he has also grown considerably since his mother was still there. The joy he felt each time Mum would surprise them with a trip to the zoo is far from what he's feeling now, yet he still feels like visiting.

The young girl at the counter hands him the ticket and Killian enters. The rain has caused the place to be abandoned. There are still some parents walking around with their umbrella while their child in brightly colored raincoat runs about excitedly pointing at every animal. He feels his lips curve slightly at the sight.

It doesn't matter that the zoo has changed or that some spots where memories lay of his childhood have disappeared. The happy essence this place emits is contagious.

Instead of completely derailing Killian, the bad thoughts slow down, following their designated tracks again.

He walks around for a bit, the drops of rain splashing on his head and collar. Eventually, Killian reaches the bench. It is clearly replaced or repainted but it looks the same as on the picture Liam took. He can imagine his mother sitting on it. Her smile as bright as the absent sun. Across her, his older brother, capturing the moment for decades to come. Killian's mind draws their faces and silhouettes right on the place they once stood.

The laugh that comes out of his mouth is somewhat hysterical, making the people surrounding him frown. He must be a sight: the lonely, grown man with a beard and in a suit standing in the rain, laughing at things that only take place in his head, but he doesn't care. As long as the feeling fades away in a bit.

He sits on the bench and feels the water seep through the fabric of his pants. After a while, the rain falls down unnoticed by Killian. The pondering is all that remains.

Mum and Liam are both gone, his father is not and maybe that is unfair but it is an opportunity.

For such a long time he craved for his father's return. Anyhow, the years had passed and Killian had grown to deny the existence of the man. He had his brother, more of a father figure than Brennan ever would be. No man worthy of the name father would copy his actions. Liam was more than enough. He was family.

His father might not be family right now but he could become it again. They still share the same blood. Killian is far too often reminded of that. They look alike and if anyone has inherited Brennan's character, it would be Killian.

Forgiveness will heal the pain of abandonment, of all those moments. Or so he hopes. He knows Liam would be overjoyed if they finally mended their bond. Compassion and kindness were traits he got from Mum. Nothing has to be rushed. This needs to go slowly, piece by piece. It should start by Killian tolerating Brennan's presence. Every step past that will be an improvement. They could maybe even talk.

Something tells Killian that the first suture to heal the wound has been made.

When he returns to the house, Hazel is sitting on the couch. Her black clothes have been replaced by a large woolen sweater and a pair of joggings. Her hands are cradling the cup of tea she occasionally sips of. Killian shivers while entering the warm room. There is not a spot left dry and even though he first did not mind the rain, he started to feel cold as he was walking back. The sound Killian makes turns Hazel's gaze to him.

Her lips softly turn upwards in greeting. Killian would love to talk to her right now, but if he stays in these clothes, he will surely catch a cold. Motioning to the stairs, he silently asks permission to go change. She nods without a doubt and Killian goes to his room, the promise that they will talk on his lips.

"I apologize, Hazel, for leaving you all alone," he says when he reappears downstairs.

The drenched suit has been taken off and Killian dried his hair and body with one of the towels. Simulating Hazel, he changed into comfortable and more importantly rainless clothing.

Hazel shifts on the couch, creating a space for Killian to sit down in.

"It's my fault, Killian. I should have told you I asked him to come," she answers.

Hazel is not to blame for his departure, that was his own fault.

"You did the right thing," Killian says while shaking his head. "I was wrong for running away but I realize that now."

Hazel's eyebrows slightly crease.

"What changed your mind?"

His shoulders rise in a shrug. It isn't an indifferent one but more of an easy way to admit what has taken place at the zoo. How the ghosts of his mother and Liam have forced Killian to look inside and made him decide what kind of man he wants to be.

"Liam."

Hazel's gray irises watch him intently, showing her interest in what happened in the moments after he left the funeral and came back to the house. Her look is open, though, not demanding anything. She lets Killian tell the things he wants to share and at his own pace.

"I took a page out of Liam's book," Killian continues, "He would have liked a reconciliation of the Joneses, even if he wasn't there to make peace."

"Yes, he would've. I'm happy you made the right choice, Killian."

Besides the small smile on her face, Killian detects the glimmer of Hazel's eyes. To console her, he opens his arms to welcome her into a hug.

"I haven't gone through the pictures yet. Do you want to do it together?" her lips mumble against Killian's shirt.

Killian nods.

"I would love to."

The pile of pictures is a big one, Liam being a man of the world and of the people. It seems like everyone went out of their way to find some sort of image to commemorate him. Some pictures have notes attached to them or written on their backside, some are recent, some are old. It's an emotional roller coaster but it is dominated by the pride of his brother and his life Killian feels. It ended way too soon but at least he had a full one full of love and joy.

"I think I'm going to make an album with all of these in them," Hazel says.

There's is no response on his part.

"Killian?"

She walks towards him. Killian has been staring at the small photograph held between his index and thumb.

"So, what's next?" Hazel asks him, commenting on the faded picture Brennan gave at the funeral.

"I suppose I have to talk to my father."

* * *

Killian decides to wait in the living room while Hazel goes and opens the door. He can't decide if the feeling in his body is nervousness or just the urge to get this all over with.

"Brennan." Killian shortly nods his head to acknowledge his father when he enters.

Despite his newly founded resolution, Killian can't help the cold use of his father's first name. It just has been too long.

"Killian," he answers with a warm smile. "Thank you for the invitation."

Brennan's contentment is earnest and it vouches for the reasons why Killian even considered meeting him. His father wants to make up, wants to accept anything Killian is willing to give.

"I see the walls haven't been painted since I've been around," Brennan attempts to joke but all it does is remind Killian of the last time he was here with his father.

"Alright, Brennan," Killian says, trying to make some things clear. "I'm doing this because Liam would have wanted it. If it depended on me, I would avoid all contact but we are the only two left."

Brennan moves his head in understanding.

"I get it, Killian. I'm not expecting anything. Well, nothing but a conversation."

"Do you want some tea to accompany said conversation?" Hazel chimes in.

Both men turn to her with a thankful look and agree with her proposal. Disappearing into the kitchen, Hazel leaves father and son awkwardly standing around each other. It takes time to adjust after so many years.

The clutter of the cups that sounds when Hazel brings the tea relieves the tension. They all sit down at the table and after some tentative sips of the hot drink to see if it has cooled down enough, they start the conversation.

"I know the things that I did are unforgivable, I feel like I need to explain, however."

"An explanation is all I ever wanted," Killian replies.

A bit of a lie, but it is something he could settle for.

"When your mother died-" his father starts. "-It pained me so very much and the only thing that could force that pain to the background was alcohol."

Killian remembers that. His father would come home completely inebriated, stumbling on the stairs and waking the both of them up. Liam would help him undress and reach his bed while Brennan kept slurring his words, reproaching them of being too kind and not being men.

"Seeing you two, and especially you, Killian with her eyes and hair-" Brennan looks at Killian, right into his blue eyes. "- it made me drink even more. You were the image of her and at one point it all became too much. It was unreasonable of me to blame children, but the liquor blurred my judgment. It took me a while to realize I had a problem, but I'm sober now. I have been for years."

"That's good. Congratulations!" Hazel says proudly.

She widens her eyes, watching Killian and motions her head nearly undetectably. The gesture is meant to push Killian to praise his father for his success in abstaining from the liquid temptation, but more than a mumbled "well done" does not come out of his lips. Hazel shows her disappointment with a small sigh and turns back to Brennan.

"What do you do as work?" she inquires, abandoning the fixing of their relationship.

Small talk won't help much, nor is it Hazel's challenge to overcome. He simply needs to act normal and discuss what needs to be mentioned.

"I own a small store together with my wife."

The word startles Killian, snapping his gaze away from the table and to the man in front of him. Wife. He has a wife. Killian wasn't expecting this.

"You remarried?" slips out of him.

His father kept repeating how much he loved their mother, blamed her death for his departure and still, he found someone else to love. To love him.

"I did." Nodding his head, Brennan responds. "Her name is Maura and she's far better than I deserve. She's the one who made me stop drinking."

He says it with such admiration in his voice that Killian has no choice but to believe he really loves her. Killian knows a thing or two about second loves. He has been lucky enough to be granted one after things didn't work out with Milah. His father clearly had been too.

"Do you have- Did you have any children?" he tries to control his voice.

What if he has a half-brother or a half-sister? It would be amazing to gain some more family but would he be able to ignore the jealousy? The sting of envy every time he was reminded of that child not being left alone and being enough for their father to stay.

Luckily, Brennan quickly puts a stop to Killian's worries.

"No, we don't. It would not have been fair to you and brother."

The reassurance prompts Killian to finally do what he promised himself he would.

"I appreciate that. I'm aware that I've not been the most welcoming. I'm sorry for the way I treated you," Killian apologizes.

By holding up a hand, Killian prevents his father from intervening.

"It was most definitely bad form." A little huff follows. "I was so angry with you for years, but you have indeed changed and I'm definitely not that nine-year-old anymore."

Killian decides to return the favor and tell his father who he has become, what he does, what he loves.

"As you probably know, I live in the US now. I own a coffeehouse called 'A Cup of Jones' in Boston. Business is going very well and I have two incredible employees who have helped so much."

Killian smiles when he thinks of Aurora and Tink. They have not only helped in the café but in his personal life as well.

"I have actually met someone. Her name is Emma and she is … a challenge." he admits with a grin. "She's the most wonderful challenge and I love her."

Brennan smiles back.

For the next hour or so they talk. His father asks questions, Killian replies and vice versa. They genuinely get to know each other again after being estranged for twenty-two years. Both having changed incredibly, they are forced to start from the beginning and when they reach the end, it feels like the wound has closed.

His father stands up, pushing the chair behind him and making a sound. Killian follows.

"Thank you for allowing me to see you and to hear how well you are doing, Killian. I do hope we can keep contact."

Killian feels inclined to accept his father's cautious request.

"Even as a grown man, you still carry your mother with you. She would have been incredibly proud of you, son. As am I."

There is something in the words his father says that makes Killian's eyes burn with tears. He never saw the likeness with his mother, only saw the things she was and he lacked. The only traits he could find in himself were those damned ones of his father, but even he changed for the better. Since he was little, Killian thought he had lost both of his parents, but it appears he has not.

The distance between them both is closed as Killian approaches him for a hug.

"Thank you, father," he says, the emotion taking over.

When his father leaves, Killian goes back to Hazel who is reading a book in the couch. She swiftly understood that they needed to be with two for this and gave them their privacy, while still keeping an eye out.

"You are going back home, aren't you?"

Killian is amazed by how perceptive his sister-in-law is. He did not even have to say a word about how he thinks it is time for him to return to The States.

"I am," he answers, "Do you think you are going to be all right?"

It is a big house, filled with memories of Liam and to be here all alone to cope with them sounds difficult.

"It hurts, but I know that I will be."

The gray of her eyes has sadness in it, but her smile bears a trace of optimism. The book in her grip is closed and placed next to her. Hazel's slim hand takes hold of his.

"Thank you, Killian, for come here and helping me deal with everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

And Killian does not know how he would have survived if it wasn't for her. He didn't even know her little more than a week ago and today Killian considers her family. Family that he reluctantly has to leave behind. He is going to miss her.

"Same goes for you, love," Killian responds.

"Come to visit me again, will you?"

"I will," Killian says to comfort her. "Should you decide to make a trip over the pond one day, give me a call."

"A call you shall receive. I'm curious about your café now." Her elbow nudges him teasingly.

"You'll have to come and see for yourself, then," he banters back. "Alright, I'm going upstairs to pack."

He stands up out of the leather sofa and walks towards the stairs. Before he can set a foot on them, Hazel's voice makes his head turn around.

"Oh, and Killian?"

"Aye?" His eyebrow rises.

"I'm so happy you have someone to return to now."

He is too.

 **I'm back to ask (beg) for a review**


	11. Promise

**A/N: Sorry for making you wait the entire time; it's simply been difficult to find motivation. Someone asked what Emma was thinking during Killian absence. Well, you're about to find out. Here's some Emma PoV. Promise is a Ben Howard song.**

Emma pries open her left eye, but the sleep acts like a weight pulling it back down. She takes a deep breath and forces both sides to let the day in. Never has she been a morning person, but somehow moving her body out of the warmth of her sheets has become easier.

Her lips turn into a smile as she thinks back to yesterday.

It wasn't easy agreeing to meet Mary Margaret right in the lion's den. There was a lot of texting and calling and begging; eventually she reluctantly agreed. Emma couldn't quite figure out why Mary Margaret was so set on meeting at Killian's café when there were a gazillion others in the neighborhood. Possibly because her sister in law was used to going to 'A Cup of Jones' that it would feel like a form of betrayal to visit competition. Emma definitely felt like that.

The Monday after she ran away, left Killian with her words echoing in the room, her feet automatically took her to the shop, following the path she had taken every time; her brain temporarily had forgotten that she couldn't face him, had forgotten how she bared her soul to him and that he was the first in a long time.

Then the familiar red, swirly letters appeared and it all came flying back. So she turned around and walked to the next best establishment. The girl asked for her order and Emma hesitated for a while, being estranged from needing to say her order out loud instead of having it ready the moment she enters.

Emma tried to ignore how less homey the interior was. She tried to not notice how her order wasn't quite right. She tried to ban every thought about Killian Jones out of her head and failed miserably.

Yesterday, when she entered the coffeehouse again after telling herself over and over that she needed to be strong, all of her arguments disappeared. The reason why she needed to be strong became blurrier after every time she repeated it again.

Killian came over and told her she didn't need to be strong because she already was. He spoke of how she deserved love and countered all of Emma's words of that notorious day.

It was too much. An overflow, like a dam that broke and the surge of water that followed. It knocked her down and took her breath away. And when he tried to leave, she grabbed him to stop. She kissed him, something she hadn't done since their date and in that kiss, she found her grounding, something to steady her.

It was that calm, that certainty that made Emma invite Killian to meet Henry. Henry was the most important thing in her life and always remained sheltered from Emma's poor excuse for a dating life. Killian, however, changed that; he was the first to succeed and he did it in a record time. Letting him near her son felt natural, good. As if this had always been the right choice. And seeing the both of them interact was a reassurance that her gut instinct could cooperate with her heart.

Calling him after they parted had been in the spur of the moment, the dialing tone already informing Emma that it was too late to back down; Killian would know she had called. Hastily, she thought of an excuse to conceal her true reasons, knowing very well that to him it would be like a glass wall to see through.

The conversation began with the more mundane matters, but quickly evolved. They exposed new things, found similarities between the both of them and trusted each other like they never had. Killian knew the exact words she needed to hear, understood what she was thinking and provided a remedy to her darkening thoughts and grim past; the feeling was not a foreign one to him.

Their call lasted for hours until the sleep came close to catching up with Emma. It was with reluctance they said goodbye and with a declaration to talk the next day.

That is why Emma doesn't mind getting out of bed and starting her day because Killian's voice saying "I promise." lingers in her head.

Henry is still at his friend's house and only needs to be picked up after school. Emma catching her latest skip on Tuesday and not having any new cases for the time being, creates empty minutes and empty hours. Normally there are tons of things to fill that time with: groceries, cleaning, other responsible adult things, but Emma had completed all of those things on her day off yesterday.

The British accent flowing around the promise returns and makes Emma hesitate. Should she go to the café and go talk to him? It isn't one of her usual days to visit which would probably earn her a smug Killian smile, but if she simply wants a good hot chocolate then that's her absolute right. Maybe she should wait a while, to avoid coming off too eager. Yes, she'll do that. Take it easy, watch an episode of some show and then casually drop by.

This is quite a new sensation. One she hasn't let herself experience since forever, since Neal really.

* * *

The weather is gentle, a sign of summer slowly but steadily coming over. There are a few weeks of spring left but the temperatures are steadily rising and the number of layers Emma wears is slowly decreasing.

The morning rush hour where all of the corporately dressed people come by for their dose of caffeine right before work has passed. The shop is quiet and calm as Emma walks in. Sometimes her irregular hours working in bail bonds could prove to be an advantage.

Her green eyes instantly dart towards the counter but can't find the mop of dark hair or blue eyes she is usually greeted with. Instead, it's Aurora who is handing an elderly lady her coffee order. The barista smiles at her and she smiles back. Emma recalls that Aurora was working yesterday too, so that means she is aware of the current situation between Killian and her. Thus, it's not surprising when, before Emma able to ask if he's there, Aurora is the first to speak.

"Killian is working from home today," she says apologetically.

"Oh," Emma replies, not letting the disappointment she feels affect the light smile on her face. "I didn't know that."

Her mouth hums as she thinks of something to say or to do, something to take away the slight awkwardness lingering around.

Killian told her that Aurora is expecting but Emma supposes that it remains a private piece of information, one solely shared with close friends and family. Meaning that it was not a topic to have some small talk about.

"Can I get you anything?"

Aurora's question breaks the silence and makes everything lighter. Of course, Emma could've simply ordered something. She _is_ standing in a coffeehouse. Emma softly laughs at her own expense.

"Sure, a hot chocolate, please," she orders and Aurora, smiling back at her, nods.

"Coming right up." The auburn hairs swish as the girl turns around towards the machines to prepare her drink.

"Emma!" Tink greets her. "How great to see you."

"Yeah, you too."

Unbuttoning her olive coat, the blonde says hi to Aurora and temporarily disappears into the back room.

"Here you go." A large cup gets handed to her. "You know where to find the cinnamon." Aurora winks.

Emma laughs, "I do."

The door opens and Tink, apron tied around her waist, returns. Her eyes quickly sweep the room to see if her help is needed anywhere, but clearly conclude the contrary because she directs her attention to Emma.

"So…," she starts. "You and Killian fixed things?"

Suddenly, Emma wonders how much these two girls actually know about everything that has occurred between Killian and her. How much did Killian tell them and how much does he trust them?

"Umm," Emma hesitates. "Yes, we did."

Tink facial expression illuminates with the news.

"Oh, that's great. Did you go on a date or did you simply talk? Was there a kiss?"

The nosiness of Tink's questions betrays that she is familiar with their tale and is apparently very invested in the outcome.

"Sorry, I'm just interested," she apologizes. "Killian has been ignoring my texts and I want to know what happened."

Aurora is close by, following Emma and Tink's conversation silently, her personality not as straightforward as Tink's but curious nonetheless.

"We talked and resolved our issues and had a great time eating lunch with my son in the park. That's about all that happened." Emma lightly shrugs.

It looks like Tink is about to leap into the air of joy, her eyes turn big and her lips curl into a smile.

"I'm-" she begins and then looks at Aurora. "I mean, we're so happy for the both of you."

"I'm happy too. But I'm going to head home now. Thanks for my hot chocolate." Emma tips the cup in Aurora's direction. "And for the talk."

"Any time!"

Emma walks backward, away from the counter and to the door.

"Bye Emma!" they both yell in unison, making Emma snigger to herself.

* * *

The clock strikes three and it's time for Emma to leave the apartment and walk towards Henry's school to pick him up. Killian still hasn't called and it shouldn't be nagging her but he's in the comfort and privacy of his home, surely he could call her or even send her a quick text. But then again, so could she.

Her fingers tap the screen while her feet tap the concrete. She has lived in Boston long enough and taken this route so many times that Emma doesn't need her full attention. There's a loose tile in front of the library, the crossing light right near the school only stays green for five seconds, when she turns the corner by the Mexican food truck, she'll come across the stream of people leaving the T. It's a routine.

 ** _Hey, Killian. I was just at the café, but you weren't there… Luckily I had Tink and Aurora to entertain me. Boy, do they know a lot of embarrassing stuff about you ;) -E_**

The rattling sound of the school bell goes off the moment the brown building comes in sight. And by the time she gets at the gate, Henry is ready to go home.

"Hi, Mom," he says, his voice in that embarrassing phase between child and adolescent.

"Hey, kid. How was Avery's?"

They slowly start to shamble, neither of them having a reason to hurry home. Their feet drag over the concrete, one step at a time.

"It was fine." Henry raises his shoulders. His brown eyes peer at Emma out of their corner. "You don't have to pick me up from school anymore, you know that, right?"

Emma meets his look.

"I know. I had a free day today and I like coming to get you. Maybe my mother heart has a difficult time admitting that you are growing up," Emma sighs.

Henry slides his arm into her looped one and pulls her a bit closer.

"I'll always be your kid, Mom."

Bringing his head closer with her hand, Emma places a kiss on top of it.

"I know," is mumbled against his brown locks.

"I have an idea," Henry exclaims with a grin. "You just said you're free from work so why don't we go see a movie?"

"Sure, why not."

* * *

Focusing on the movie and being forced to turn her phone off deters Emma's thoughts from Killian but it is disappointing when, after they've seen the entire credit roll and the extra bit afterwards, the only missed text is one from Ruby begging her to have a girls' night real soon.

Maybe his phone is turned off too, maybe he is unexpectedly overwhelmed with a lot of work. That could all be true. If either of those is the case, she can't call him. How desperate would she seem if he activated his phone and was met by a text and a missed call? No, Emma will wait. He promised and if Killian is anything, it's a man of his word.

* * *

Or so she thinks. After a relatively quiet dinner with Henry and looking over his homework like he asked her to do, Emma grabs her phone hoping to see his answer which she would expect to sound somewhat like this:

 _Swan… Whatever they told you, it is utter nonsense. Do not believe them. That being said, you must have missed me very much if you came by on a Thursday._

But of course it's complicated to expect something from a text that has never been sent. Her inbox is poignantly empty. The day has ended, the night has begun and Emma finds herself rubbing her eyes of tiredness. She can't stall going to bed much longer; as calm today as was, tomorrow will be a whole other story.

Eventually, Emma caves, grabbing her cell and pressing the telephone icon. The dial tone keeps going on, beeping in her ear. The tone is annoying and Emma wants to hang up. Before she can, the beep subdues and Killian's voice takes its place.

"Hello, this is the voicemail of Killian Jones, owner of 'A Cup of Jones'. I'm currently unavailable but do not hesitate to leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I am able to."

Again, a bleeping noise can be heard to signal the end of Killian's message and to motivate Emma to leave on of her own.

"Hey, Killian," Emma commences. Her free hand runs through her locks, untangling the knots she comes across. "Emma here. We were going to talk today but seeing that you're not picking up, you are probably still busy working." Her feet take her everywhere in the room, meandering over the wooden floor. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to bed right now, so we'll have to postpone our talk until tomorrow or some other time. Bye," she says, quickly adding a good night afterwards before stopping the call.

Falling into bed, Emma inhales and lets the breath return in a sigh. She'll have to go to sleep and pretend she is not bothered by the situation, by Killian promising something and then not following through. Perhaps she is completely overreacting but broken promises, how small they may be, still make a dull ache return.

Neal had once promised something, had said he would meet her in a dark alley but that never happened. Instead, she got arrested in that same alley for a crime she didn't even commit. Emma went to prison and was forced to give birth there. A seventeen-year-old child had to give up her child because the prison wouldn't let her keep him. It was temporary but it didn't make the goodbye any easier.

Being distrustful of people was necessary to survive afterwards, to not get her heart crushed in the same way, to strive for a better life; a life where she and her little baby boy would be alright.

* * *

The perp Emma needs to catch is a complete idiot and that makes Emma very happy. The guy takes shelter in his mom's house and made the smart move to forward his mail there. Every day at the same time, he makes his round of nearby stores to find a job, leaving his real name, address and phone number behind in case they needed to contact him.

And that's what Emma does to lure him to her. She calls the number, leaves a fake name and a place to meet and the job is in the bag.

The effortlessness of this task is not the only thing Emma is glad about; the rest of the day, save for the paperwork she needs to fill in to officially close the case, is hers to spend in any way she pleases.

Killian hasn't called or texted back and Emma is worried. In a way it is only fair that she gets the silent treatment, a clear case of karma. Mere weeks ago, Killian found himself in the same situation, a phone that screamed silence in hand. He could be giving Emma a taste of her own medicine.

Over the last day, her brain has invented several possibilities, several scenarios. All acceptable excuses (perhaps not that last one) that Killian can tell her when Emma talks to him in person.

Call it her pessimistic side, but she has a feeling something is wrong.

The feeling gnaws at Emma and haunts her thoughts on the way toward 'A Cup of Jones.' It goes anywhere and everywhere it pleases because Emma doesn't restrict it, she doesn't put a leash on the bleak prospects. It's best to have the worst case scenario in mind; that way the actual situation will seem less severe.

Her hand pushes the door open and Emma walks in. There are a few more people than yesterday but the establishment remains serene. Tink is serving a client alone. Emma's brow creases. Killian should be here. Slightly widening, the blonde's hazel eyes notice Emma and quickly look back at the customer in front of her.

"Go and have a seat, I'll deliver your drink in a second," Tink tells the red haired woman while politely smiling.

Emma takes the redhead's place, but Tink turns her back, preparing the lady's drink.

"Tink?" Emma addresses her. "Shouldn't Killian be working?"

There's no answer. Emma's foot begins to tap on the ground of impatience. Why isn't Tink acknowledging her presence?

Walking around the counter, Tink brings the woman's cup of coffee. Emma follows the movement with her entire body, rotating herself to where Tink is standing. Finally, when all of the cups and trays are cleared and the customers content, she looks Emma in the eye.

"Tink?" Emma asks again. "Where is he?"

"He took some time off." is her vague answer.

He took time off. Well, that puts a big, red line through "he is busy working." Nevertheless, it sounds a bit out character for Killian to take time off. The coffeehouse is like his baby. He would never abandon it.

"Did you know yesterday when I came by?"

Tink shakes her head fully, trying to convince Emma she didn't lie to her.

"No, he was supposed to be working from home yesterday. I received a call this morning from him," she answers.

So he could call Tink to let her know he was taking a break but couldn't return her call or even her text. Emma huffs and smiles bitterly. Message understood. The girl facing her seemingly senses where Emma's mind is taking her and places a hand on her shoulder.

"It's not what you think, Emma. Killian-" Tink's teeth create a dent in her lower lip as she thinks of the right words. "He had to go back to England."

"Why?"

"His brother Liam…" A sigh escapes from her lips. "... died."

A cold shiver runs up her spine and immobilizes Emma's entire body. Fuck. Liam died. All of this time Emma thought that Killian had reconsidered their relationship and had decided to stop it. That's was her worst case scenario. How could she expect that the actual reason for his silence and disappearance is a hundred or a thousand times worse?

Liam was his hero, the only bit of family Killian had left. Losing him must have turned Killian into a wreck, full of sorrow and anger. And Emma can't do anything about it because they are separated by an ocean.

* * *

Emma makes time every day to stop by the coffeehouse. Normally, she doesn't need more than a small shake of the head by either Aurora or Tink to have that little, small, tiny bit of hope extinguished.

She accepts Ruby's proposal for a girls' night and even though Emma's not into it as usual, it does manage to take her mind off of things temporarily.

Nobody knows that there's anything wrong with Killian; nobody except for her, Aurora and Tink. Henry asks if Killian has mentioned something about the sailing trip and Emma promises him to take care of the details the next time they talk. Her son seems satisfied with that answer.

* * *

After five days, the negative responses she gets from Killian's employees start to weigh in. Emma can't find her focus which makes her cases take longer and results in barely seeing Henry and working the entire day, from morning into the dead of night.

Emma checks her wrist for the time and sees that it's three to eight. Shit. With the case, she completely obliterated her visit. There's no way she can make it before they close. But if she hurries, they might still pick up the phone.

"Hello?" The bewilderment of someone calling this late lies thick on Aurora's voice but Emma doesn't care.

"Hi, Aurora. It's Emma. Is he back yet?" she asks.

"Emma…," Aurora hesitates.

The line is disturbed with some cracks and a soft muttering. Aurora is talking to someone who is in the room with her. The nervousness in Emma grows with every second. And then she finally hears what she's been waiting on.

"Yes, Killian's back."

"That's great. I need to go and see him," Emma says, partially muttering to herself.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Emma? He only landed a couple of hours ago," Aurora tries to reason with her.

"Aurora, I need his address."

The fact that she doesn't know where he lives is another testimony of how new their relationship is. There are a lot of subjects untouched and undiscussed, but Emma is certain that Killian could use somebody, that being alone here would not solve anything.

"He's not going to be there," Aurora replies, causing Emma to furrow her eyebrows.

"Where else would-" Emma stops herself. What's his second home? And has a trace of the memory of his brother hanging in the air? "The Jolly."

"Yeah… Take care of him, Emma," Aurora pleads.

It's clear that Killian means a lot to her, to the both of them. More than a simple boss-employee relationship, something resembling friends.

"I will. Thank you." Emma ends the call and halts for a moment to think.

"Mom?" Henry says, pausing his video game. "Is everything okay?"

He has a worried look in his brown eyes. Emma takes a seat next to him, grabs ahold of his arm and meets his concerned gaze.

"Killian isn't doing really well," she admits.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He lost his brother." Emma's tone is soft, almost a whisper.

"Mom!" Henry nearly yells. "What are you still doing here then?"

"I can't just leave you alone," she tells him.

"I'll go to David and Mary Margaret's for the night. I'm sure they won't mind. Killian needs you right now."

It reminds Emma how much she loves this kid. Sometimes she wonders how it's possible that Henry is hers. He's smart and caring; his big, kind heart is so admirable.

"Thank you, Henry." Emma grabs her keys and puts on her jacket. "I'll drop you off."

The Bug parks right before David and Mary Margaret's front door and Mary Margaret is awaiting them.

"Thanks for this," Emma says to her friend.

She smiles in return and responds, "No problem, Emma. It's been ages since he's been here, David and I are both looking forward to it. I'll take him with me to school and everything."

"Great." Emma sends her a thankful smile. "Bye, kid. And behave!"

"Of course, Mom. Good luck and tell Killian I said hi."

"I will."

Emma doesn't completely remember the way to his boat, but luckily she still has the text he sent her right ahead of their date. God, that seems ages ago.

The boat is gently quavering in the dark water. The moon shines brightly against the inky sky. Stopping for a heartbeat to take in the sight, Emma continues to near the Jolly Roger Junior. Her hands curl around the railing to get on board safely. Inside, a faint light luminescences, indicating that Killian is indeed here, proving that Emma does know Killian to some extent.

Prior to entering, Emma knocks on the door. It wouldn't be very polite to barge in right after his return. She stands there for a while, arms wrapped around her body against the chill of the night, but there's no answer; there's not even a sign of life except for the amber glow.

Hesitantly, Emma moves the door handle and lets herself in.

"Killian?" she calls for him, her eyes quickly finding him in the small space.

The man sitting there, feet dangling from the bed, does not look like Killian. Not in the slightest bit. The normally perfectly kept scruff has turned into a long brown beard with streaks of ginger. His locks are long too, clouding parts of his face. Killian looks broken, his head hanging low and eyes troubled. There's no reply to Emma's greeting, not even a reaction to her presence.

Emma takes a look around and spots a bottle. It's half full- or should she say half empty- with dark liquor. Killian must have been drinking. Has he been like the entire week? She certainly hopes not because it would take much more effort for him to rebuild himself; the road back to becoming Killian again would not be an easy one.

There's a white square occupying the space next to the bottle and Emma walks closer. A letter. A letter addressed to Killian. With a sense of premonition, she turns it around. The sender is Liam Jones.

"Killian?" Emma attempts yet again, but without any sound or movement on Killian's part.

Grabbing the envelope, Emma approaches him. The bed sinks down as she takes a seat next to him. What is the best way to handle this? To help Killian with his grief and show him she's here for him? Emma has never excelled at this kind of things. She knows how to comfort Henry but that's a skill acquired after many years of tears and wailing.

"Have you read it?"

Gently, Killian shakes his head and finally responds to Emma.

"I can't." His voice sounds hoarse, as if he spent the last hours screaming at the top of his lungs.

"You want me to read it?" Emma asks.

It's a mere suggestion. Killian could decline or find it a stupid idea but it could possibly make it easier for him. At least that's what Emma wants for him.

His attention is captured when he tears his stare off the floor and connects with Emma's eyes instead. She can't help herself from silently mouthing hi to him. Seeing his blue irises makes the need for him crash down with high velocity. She's missed him so.

Killian nods and Emma is momentarily confused as to what he's agreeing to but then remembers the paper in her hand. She doesn't rip it open but carefully sticks her finger between and makes a zigzagging motion to preserve the envelope as much as possible. The letter leaves its pouch. Unfolding the message, Emma intertwines her hand with his. He could use some extra support.

After a deep breath, Emma starts reading, "Dear little brother, I'm truly sorry I haven't responded to your letter earlier."

Killian's grip on her hand becomes stronger, simultaneously with his facade weakening. He begins to cry, to sob even and it breaks Emma's heart. After reciting one sentence, she already puts the letter aside. Her arms envelop Killian in a hug and she feels his tears fall on her shoulder.

Ultimately she ends up with Killian's head on her lap, running her fingers tenderly through his dark hair.

It's weird. Never before have they had this kind of intimacy. They never had the time. But it feels so natural. Emma has never been one for words. That is more his thing but now she can show him that she cares. That she does something a bit more profound than care.

Except for an occasional sniff from Killian, the room is completely silent. She senses that he's still awake, so she decides to tell him something he doesn't know yet.

"When I was younger-," Emma embarks on her story, "- I was an orphan and as most orphans, I felt unloved. Very exceptionally, I would make a friend but I'd get transferred and lose them. When I turned seventeen, I left the system and not long after that I met Neal."

Killian shifts a bit, turning his head more to her.

"He made me feel loved and special which was a unique thing to me. In the end, he left me. I was put in jail for his crime and he didn't even hesitate to turn me in. I discovered I was pregnant in there. Neal left and I had to stay in prison while he was free as a bird. I had a baby to take care of while he was god knows where doing god knows what."

Emma sighs, still moving her hands on his head.

"It scarred me. It scarred me so much that I was scared you would take off too," she admits. "But that isn't you. You're a good man, Killian, and I know you attribute that to Liam. He taught you everything you know, to be brave and strong, but that doesn't mean you're nothing. Liam is proud of you, I'm sure, and you have to keep making him proud."

A moment of speechlessness settles in.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you," he says, a bit slurred courtesy of that rum on the table. "I broke my phone."

A soft smile adorns her face.

"It's alright. I had Tink update me on all things Killian Jones."

Killian sounds on the verge of sleep as he asks, "You did?"

Emma quietly lets a melodious sound escape, aware of Killian falling asleep any minute.

"I wasn't about to let you slip away."

 **A/N: We are definitely nearing the end of this fic. You can expect two more chapters which I hope to get finished before the 1-year anniversary of this fic. The reason that I use hope is because I'm starting my first year of university next week and have no idea how much time I'll have.**


	12. Don't Worry About Me

**A/N: I was so optimistic thinking that I would be able to finish this before the one-year anniversary (which was over a month ago) University is indeed very demanding. Sorry. I am quite happy with this chapter because the words flowed and it simply felt right (story wise and on a personal level) Hope you enjoy!**

It feels like his head is splitting in two, as if an earthquake trembled and tore until a fissure appeared in the middle of his brain. Eyes still closed, Killian flinches with the pain and groans. What time is it? How much did he drink yesterday? He isn't sure but he is sure of the fact that he needs an aspirin.

In the search of that alleviation, he slowly opens his eyes, alert of the bright light that might overwhelm and attack his hungover self. The blue irises return to the world of the living but it isn't his world he's seeing.

The floor stays steady, there's no floating motion or lapping of water in the background. The room is far brighter and wider than the cramped and dim Jolly Roger. Killian is lying in an actual comfortable bed, not in a hard and squeaking bunk. He startles upright, disoriented and confused and with no recognition of the place he was reposing.

As Killian breathes, his inhales and exhales following each other quickly due to the distress, he distinguishes a smell. The fragrance fills his nostrils and he closes his eyes. It is familiar, a calming smell. Vanilla with a tinge of cinnamon. Emma.

He lifts the black blanket covering him and sets his bare feet on the soft carpet surrounding the bed.

"Morning," a voice behind him says right before Killian gets up.

He turns his head in the direction of the source and sees Emma walking towards him, a glass of water and two white pills in hand. She offers them by stretching her arms and Killian accepts, immediately gulping the pills down and hopefully by doing that also quieting the pounding.

She's dressed in a simple T-shirt bearing the logo of some band and in black joggings. It's the embodiment of comfort and yet, Emma has never looked more beautiful. How he's missed her. There were no sparkling green eyes in England, not that he saw anyway. No flowing blonde hair, not resembling hers in the slightest. Not her smile or her freckles. No Emma.

Killian has to restrict himself from standing up and embracing her, breathing in that perfume he woke up with, taking in everything he desired, searching the comfort only she could give. He can't, because he has no idea where they stand, where their relationship stands. Everything was going great and then he left. Even though it wasn't his decision and the circumstances did not leave him another choice, Killian still left Emma without any notice.

"How did I get here?" he asks her, sheepishly looking through his eyelashes.

Emma settles next to him on the bed, her right leg inches from his left. There is heat coming from her, a force of attraction that makes Killian want to reduce the space separating them.

"I drove you," she answers. "I wasn't going to let you freeze to death on your ship and there was no chance I was going to leave you alone, so I took you here." Her shoulders rise.

"How come I don't remember any of that?"

He remembers his flight back, the cab ride to his empty apartment; he remembers finding the envelope in his bulging mailbox. He still recollects the cab ride to the Jolly jr, hasn't forgotten about the bottle of rum that was stored in one of the wooden cabinets or about how he conjured up his courage to open the letter one sip at a time. Killian remembers his breakdown, vividly even. The last memory, last detail of yesterday his mind can think of is Emma's soothing voice and soft hands caressing his hair.

"You were pretty far gone when I found you."

Like he said: he hasn't forgotten about the rum. It must be hereditary thing flowing through his veins and ingrained into his body. A family trait connecting his father and him.

Speaking of family.

"What about Henry?" Killian inquires, looking behind his shoulder to see if the boy in question isn't present, quietly eavesdropping by the door perhaps. What kind of bad form would that show him? How could he be an example for Henry if he's a hungover mess waking up in Emma's bed? He wants to be a better man for them.

Emma smiles. "Henry understood that you needed someone right now and kindly suggested that he went to Mary Margaret's for the night. He'll be home after school."

It's a small relief because that means Killian doesn't need to put on an act, pretending that he's perfectly fine to not unsettle Henry. And it means there's no rush. To talk, to make amends, to leave. They have time.

Emma rises and takes a few steps towards the dark bedside table. She grabs something off of it but her back shields the item from Killian. As she faces him again, the white rectangle becomes visible and Killian sighs.

"You should read it, Killian," Emma says, her voice gentle and tender and warm.

He knows he should; it is long overdue and his brother deserves more. Liam deserves to have his final letter read by his sober brother.

While transferring Liam's letter, Emma's hand lingers on his. Her thumb brushes over Killian's skin in support; the small movement supplies some courage. She leaves the bedroom and closes the door to grant him his privacy.

The envelope is opened already, presumably by Emma somewhere yesterday. Though the paper is ripped, the letters on it remain unharmed. His chest expands as he takes in a deep, fortifying breath and unfolds the sheet.

 _Dear little brother,_

 _I am truly sorry I haven't responded to your letter earlier. Hazel and I went to take Senior out for a sail and only returned yesterday. We needed some time to simply be together before I left her alone again for a month._

 _I need to come clean, Killian. I only told you about Hazel a couple of months ago but in reality, Hazel and I have been together for about three years. I met her right after I came for the opening of the café._

 _Why didn't I tell you, you ask. Well, I guess I felt guilty in some way. You're all alone and I'm back here with all of our friends and the house and the memories of Mum. It felt like I was being unfair to boast about my happiness while you were miserable. Before you start growling that you aren't miserable, I know business is going well and that you have a roof over your head but honestly Killian, what is all that without someone to share that with? Someone to come home to?_

 _That is why I'm telling you now. Because it seems you're not miserable at all, brother. I can't say how delighted I am to hear about you finally finding a lass. You make me so very proud of you. Emma sounds wonderful and you'd better not be a big git and ruin it. I want to meet her as soon as possible and make sure you meet Hazel too._

 _It will have to wait though because I have to work first. National Geographic, brother. National Geographic. I'm sure you are done hearing about it but I just can't hide my contentment. This is a dream come true. Yours was a coffeehouse and mine is this. You of all people know how I used to devour those magazines as small lad._

 _When you buy the issue -and you will because you're proud of your big brother and also because I'm ordering you- know that they're for you, Killian. A testimony of all we have conquered and a promise for lots of adventures still to come._

 _Your brother._

A warm tear falls down, crossing the curve of his cheek to eventually disappear in the long hairs of his beard. Respecting the lines the paper was bent, it is carefully closed again, the letters hidden again and stuffed back into the envelope.

There's grief and loss, a void in his heart but he supposes that emptiness will always exist, that it will never be filled. He doesn't feel like drinking himself into oblivion, however, nor does he want to disappear and never be found again. And that's a good sign. Killian is healing, slowly make no mistake, but at least he's getting better instead of lingering in anguish.

The teardrops continue to stream for some time and when he has calmed, when it feels like his mind is tranquil enough, Killian finally gets off the soft mattress and walks towards the closed door. One hand curls around the door handle and the other covers his eyes, getting rid of any residual wetness.

By opening the door, a delicious smell surprises Killian. A smell that evokes a growl inside of him. It has been hours and hours since he last ate and he wouldn't call a packet of M&M's bought in an airport vending machine very substantial.

Hesitantly, he walks out of the bedroom. Emma's apartment had been unknown territory before, it still is. So his eyes explore and take in the drawings stuck to the light walls which clearly show Henry's aging. The room is full of pictures of the two of them, of Mary Margaret and a man Killian assumes is her husband, of other family members and friends. There are trinkets set upon cabinets, books stored on shelves and DVDs strewn in front of the TV. What a contrast with his empty and dead flat.

Killian's discovering walk leads him to Emma standing in the kitchen and welcoming him with pancakes, fruit and other delicious things. Their eyes meet and Killian sees her gaze turn empathic; he feels that she notices the anomaly in his face.

Without any words, Emma makes her way over to him and wraps her arms around his chest, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. The embrace possesses vulnerary qualities, or Emma does. It's like magic fluttering in the air and lodging inside his heart. It may sound incredibly cheesy and romantic but Killian never claimed he wasn't either of those.

"Have you read it? Killian mumbles against her locks.

Her head lightly moves in response.

"You asked me to."

It confirms Killian's suspect. His memories include Emma talking but the words are hazy in his mind.

They release each other gradually, the food on the table too seducing to resist.

"It looks amazing," Killian comments on the feast before him. "Thank you, Swan."

"Don't mention it," she shrugs, a small downplaying smile formed by her lips.

"I really am grateful, love. And I apologize too. For everything."

"You've already said sorry," she remarks.

"But not properly-" He shakes his head. "-and not with a sober mind. You've been there for me so many times."

"And so have you. It was only logical because we're- because of… the thing between us," Emma falters.

It's very understandable Emma is hesitating to pinpoint what they are exactly. Firstly, because it's Emma and a small part of her will always be scared of commitment. The second reason is because they haven't discussed it yet. They went on one date (and a half if you count the day with Henry in the park) and kissed a couple of times; could that be enough to base a relationship on? On the couple of times they've been around each other?

To Killian it is. Or the things that happened around those things are. After all they have been through, together and apart, Killian's initial, subdued feeling he identified as love has been overshadowed by ardent infatuation, by complete devotion to this woman. She simply doesn't know yet.

As Killian is thinking and fails to answer, the room becomes silent. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Emma grabs a fork and selects a cut strawberry with it. The fruit disappears into her mouth while her eyes focus on the table instead of him.

"Emma," Killian begins, beckoning the green eyes back towards his blue ones. "Will you go out with me again?"

When her eyes widen, surprise defeats any other emotion in Emma's features. She clearly wasn't expecting him to say this. The look of shock makes way; the edges of her lips start to curl, the smile coy but lambent nonetheless.

"I would love to." Emma nods.

"That's splendid. Because I want this-" Reaching over the table, he intertwines their fingers. "I want us."

"Me too," Let's not rush things. We could go on a couple of dates and see how those go."

"Your heart's desire, Swan. I promise that's all I want you to have." His thumb rubs a reassuring circle on the back of her hand. "We did already sleep together, however."

He waggles his eyebrows and smirks which conjures a roll of Emma's emerald eyes. Something that widens his lips even more.

"I kept my hands to myself for the record," she vows, defending her integrity.

Despite her previous reaction to his dashing-ness (something she would probably refer to as idiocy), Emma does seem amused and appears to be struggling to keep her own smile from adorning her face.

"If you say so Swan," he challenges her and raises his eyebrow even further.

"Oh shush. I wasn't going to sleep on the couch and you-" Her fingers points at him. "-definitely weren't in any state to do that."

The joking and bantering atmosphere transforms into a more serious one in the split of a second when Killian is reminded that she did take care of him when he wasn't able to do it himself.

"Thank you," he repeats yet again. Killian is aware that he's starting to sound like an echo in some desolate cave but there's so much to express gratitude for. "I can truly never repay you."

Emma, who has just taken a sip from her orange juice, gestures her head, indicating exactly what her following words say.

"There's no need for any repayment. Now eat," she insists and orders. "It's probably been ages since you've had a meal."

Killian raises one corner of his mouth in a smile and removes two pancakes from the stack between them. After drenching them with syrup, he takes a bite and enjoys the fluffiness and deliciousness of Emma's cooking skills. During the next bite, a gooey drop of syrup spills and ends up somewhere in his beard. Killian takes a napkin and attempts to wipe the sticky sugar away.

"On second thought," Emma says out of the blue. "Maybe you can repay me."

The dark brows on Killian's face furrow with the sudden change of heart. What does she want? Will he be able to give her what she desires?

"The beard has to go." she enlightens him. "I prefer the scruff."

An amused chuckle comes out of Killian. Emma says it in straightforward way, something he now can identify as so typical of her, but Killian senses the compliment behind the candid words. If shaving will do Emma a pleasure, then there's no doubt that he will. Besides, it's time for the beard to go, time to take care of himself again.

"I'll go to my apartment after breakfast and clean up." Killian continues to chuckle. "I frankly haven't showered since England, so that can't be a good sign."

The comment earns him another laugh from her and they continue to eat until the food is completely devoured and their stomachs feel like bursting. Walking towards the door with Emma trailing closely behind, Killian turns around.

"After I'm done, could I come back?" The question is laced with hope.

"Maybe." Emma shrugs and normally Killian would take the ambivalence of that answer as a no, but the touch of their lips that follows does exclude any negative answer.

"I can drive you if you want," she proposes after the end of their kiss.

"No, the walk and fresh air will do me good. I'll see you in a couple of hours. Alright?"

Killian strides out of Emma's apartment and looks over his shoulder. She lingers by the door, her head resting against the wooden surface.

"See you then."

Her eyes shine with joy and promise and it makes it more difficult for Killian to tear his own gaze away, to leave the hallway and go outside, to part from her, even for a little while.

Once his phone aids him with directions as to where exactly he is and what direction he is supposed to go to reach his apartment, Killian's feet follow each other faster than they ever have before. They make quick taps on the ground as he rushes over to his flat. The faster he gets there, the faster he can leave.

"Watch out," is yelled. It's not in an unfriendly way, more in a cautionary tone. A warning.

Killian bumps into Graham, his upstairs neighbor. It is quite funny how every single interaction the two of them have had lately involves some sort of collision.

"Apologies, mate."

"No worries. I'm getting used to it," the Irishman jokes. "Only one more time, Jones, and I'm expecting a drink."

Killian laughs. "I suppose that's fair, seeing that I'm never the one actually paying attention. Come by anytime, Humbert. Even if that third one never happens."

"I'll hold you to that." the curly brown haired man nods. Now, I believe you were hurrying somewhere." Graham steps aside granting him passage to the rest of the building.

"I was," Killian replies, accelerating again and rapidly taking the stairs to his abode.

The key enters the lock, the door opens, shuts and Killian removes his clothes, hurrying towards the bathroom to shower.

Perhaps shaving off his beard could have been a great symbolical gesture, a moment to reflect and think, but it simply isn't. The hairs fall down with the electrical buzzing and Killian sees himself reappear from the mask of grief. Or perhaps there is a meaning to it.

It takes him two hours and thirty-four minutes (he checked on his watch) to stand before that familiar door again, before the silver 105 is in front of him again. There's a surge of nerves racing through his veins, even though he was here only two hours and thirty-four minutes. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them on his dark jeans. After taking a breath, there's a knock made by his knuckles.

"Ah." is Emma's approving reaction when she sees him. "Much better." She smiles, her glasses lightly rising with the movement of her cheeks.

"Only for you, Swan."

"Come on in." She opens the door even further, letting him in her apartment.

"I forgot to tell you before but I like your apartment," Killian compliments.

"Thanks. I haven't even seen yours yet."

"There isn't much to see honestly," he admits honestly, sitting down on her couch. "It's bland."

Emma removes a book that is lying on her spot and settles next to him.

"I don't know anything about you," she states, "I mean, I know things but not a lot of things."

"Maybe it's time to change that."

And so they talk.

 **There's only one chapter left after this one and that will be an** **epilog** **of sorts. Title courtesy of Frances.**


	13. At Last

**A/N: I definitely chose this title (borrowed from an Etta James song) because that's probably going to be your reaction. At last, a new chapter. You have the wonderful hub ladies to thank for implementing a deadline because I am quite the procrastinator. This is the last chapter, the epilogue, so I hope you enjoy**

"Morning, boss." Killian can only see her reddish hair behind the computer, but once Aurora peers over the screen, he can see her blue eyes as well. They twinkle with kindness and that happiness Aurora always carries with her, that joy that only has multiplied in the last couple of months.

"Morning, Aurora." Killian smiles back. "How's the paperwork going?"

"Good! Thanks again for letting me do this. My ugly, swollen balloon feet were killing me in the café, but I was so bored doing nothing at home."

Killian pours himself a cup of warm coffee and approaches the desk.

"Hey, anything that can alleviate me from doing paperwork, I like." He lifts himself and settles on a patch of empty space on the desk. Hesitantly, he brings his lips to the rim of the mug, testing out the temperature of the coffee before taking a real sip. Aurora spins on the chair to face him. "Have you seen Tink today?"

Aurora nods. "She stopped by an hour ago. Anna has been doing great, a real natural according to her, so if it's alright with you, Tink would like to hire her permanently and full time. She stopped by to inform me and she's probably bringing Anna here tonight to show her what our official office looks like."

"Oh, that's superb. I'll discuss it with the both of them when they visit here. I'm still not used to having an official office, to be honest," he says, softly shaking his head in disbelief.

It was incredible how great business has been going recently. The door of the coffee house never stopped moving, constantly opening and closing and letting in a flux of colorful and varied people; young, old, regular visitors, new faces, tourists, locals. Their budget now allows them to rent a small office space. To think that he had considered giving up multiple times, been on the verge of just closing the cafe and returning to the UK as the failure he felt was. It's a bloody good thing he didn't.

"You deserve it, Killian." Aurora squeezes his knee. "You have worked really hard the last few years and this your reward."

"This is _our_ reward," he corrects her, "I couldn't have done it without the both of you."

Trying to muffle the nerves that suddenly arise with the thought of his next subject, Killian fiddles with the rings decorating his fingers. "I've been thinking…" he begins but lets his sentence die.

"About?" Aurora encourages him to continue, wearing a soft and friendly smile on her lips.

"Opening another coffeehouse."

"Really?" Aurora's mouth opens and she widens her eyes in surprise.

"Yes," he affirms, his voice a bit more certain. "It would take a lot of money and work and a lot of people, but I think we would manage."

"If there's anyone I know who can manage something, it's you. What does Emma think about it?" Aurora inquires.

Emma had been the first person he had spoken to. Telling her had even been the first time he had dared to pronounce his idea out loud. The night had fallen and was filled with very pleasurable activities. In the aftermath, in the dark and quietness they needed to fall asleep, he had softly asked if she had fallen asleep yet, which she hadn't. Why he could only tell her then, Killian didn't quite understand. Maybe the nervousness or the importance of her opinion. There was always a chance- very improbable but it existed -that Emma would tell him that he was crazy to want that, that he was being unrealistic, that she would laugh. Of course, she didn't really; his fears were very far from what actually happened.

"She's very enthusiastic," Kilian replies, keeping Emma's reaction in mind. "She has even proposed to cut back on her work hours and help out."

"So 'A Cup of Jones II' is coming?"

"Aye, there were two Jones brothers, so it only seems fit to have two establishments."

His brother was so involved in the café; he helped Killian pay, sent him words of encouragement from the other side of the ocean. Without Liam, his dream could have never become reality. This is the right to do. One final way to pay tribute to his brother, his hero. 'A Cup of Jones II" in honor of a great man.

* * *

He is freezing; his cheeks are red, his hands are cold, his hair is wet. It's like he shouldn't even have bothered to wear the scarf around his neck, the beanie on his head and gloves on his hands. Never will Killian understand the allure of winter.

"Damn you, winter weather," he says, entering the apartment and setting the box in his arms down. His, now empty, hands remove all of the ineffective protection against the season.

"Technically, it's still fall."

Emma walks towards him after correcting him. She is dressed in a comfy sweater and a pair of jeans. The radiance that lingers around her, that brightens the room, overwhelms him like tidal waves relentlessly hitting the breakwaters. It instantly makes him forget why he was complaining, blurring all of his frustration and loathing towards his least favorite time of the year.

"It feels like winter which is enough reason to hate it." Killian toes his shoes off and sets them on the rack. With the socks on his feet, he slides over their wooden floor, approaching Emma, before greeting her with a quick but sweet peck on her lips.

"Hey," Emma protests, causing Killian's brow to contract in surprise. "We met in the fall-winter," she continues, immediately smothering that inkling of fear burrowed inside of him.

Emma is right; their one year anniversaries are coming up (their first meeting in just under a week, their first date a bit later.) How is that not even a year ago? Time is a strange thing; passing with the blink of an eye, but somehow taking an eternity to do so. Not that he would complain, an eternity with this life, in this company is one he would gladly spend over and over.

"I'm aware of that, Swan." He cradles her warm hands in his cold ones and places a kiss on her knuckles. "But that still doesn't squelch my abhorrence of the season."

"Well, I love the cold because it means you can make me hot chocolates twenty-four/seven. Especially now that you are officially moving in." Her lips curl.

To hear her say those words still sends a jolt of happiness through his body, as if he had just taken a liquid, physical shot of oxytocin and dopamine and they were now pulsing through his veins. They were going to live together.

To be honest, he was already spending ninety-nine percent of his time with Henry and Emma. His apartment lacked that homey feel, that sense of relief and freedom when you entered after a long, tiring day; Emma's, however, had that, evoked exactly that sentiment. But Killian still kept his flat, only going there to occasionally grab some clothes or to simply prevent the place from withering away under the dust.

One day, after Killian left to and returned from his apartment in the early morning, not long after dawn because he needed some paperwork, they both concluded that what they were doing was idiotic. They were practically already living together. Why should he keep his apartment and pay rent for a place he sets foot in maybe once every two weeks? Why wouldn't they just take that jump they had already taken weeks ago? They didn't need more to seal the deal.

"As you can see, I've brought my first official moving box with my most prized possessions." With a quick gesture, he motions to the brown square. "The rest I left in the car."

Emma raises a questioning eyebrow, the movement full of curiosity and looks back and forth between his face and the box.

"What _do_ you consider your most prized possessions?" she inquires.

"If you want to know, check the box."

"I will," Emma says in that determined way her words always seem to carry.

It's one of the reasons he loves her so much.

She steps closer to it and crouches down. Swiftly, her hands open one flap and then lift the other one. Killian sees her rummaging through the contents and sees the emotions flash across her face. There's respect and a sad smile when she picks up the picture of his mother and the one with Liam and him. And there's happiness when she uncovers a picture of her and Henry, one that had been recently added to his collection but was as important to him as the rest. The biggest item in the box, however, safely and cautiously wrapped in bubble wrap, is his coffeemaker.

"I should have known." Emma's curls dance as she shakes her head. "What's the big deal with this thing anyway?" she questions. Stretching her legs again, Emma turns to him, the machine still in her hands.

"Swan, would you leave Fasóli alone." He softly pries the coffeemaker out of her hands.

"You gave your coffeemaker a name? And it's Fasóli?" Her voice is a pitch higher, a pitch of incredulity, as if she truly couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"It's Greek." His statement is followed by a nonchalant shrug.

"Really?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "You speak Greek?"

He doesn't really; his bilingualism is limited to English and a handful of Spanish he learned during that gap year he spent on working on Ibiza. But he couldn't find a fitting Spanish name and he had thought of nothing better than just to insert the world bean in Google Translate and to pick the best sounding one.

"You'd be surprised what the true power of Google translate is." Killian grins.

His little joke earns a roll of her eyes as response, but he can discern her effort not to laugh along.

"Should I be offended that you are calling her Greek names you have never called me?" Emma says, taking part in the game he started.

"Swan, I think my love suffices. I love you and all that, but this is my coffee maker. My _true_ love."

"Why are you moving in again?" she asks dubiously, but the smile on her face never even lets the doubt come close. "Because you-" her finger presses down on the skin of his chest and then seductively trails down. "-are so sleeping on the couch tonight." Emma unexpectedly takes a step back and Killian needs to blink before her seducing spell is gone. "You can even bring your true love with you."

He chases her, to be closer, to feel her warmth again, because he's that desperate, and his hands manage to catch and stop her from widening the space between them because she doesn't even try to run.

The green of her eyes shimmers with mischief and amusement as he caresses the soft skin of her cheeks, framing her face. With an observant gaze, Killian continues the light touches, brushing her hair behind her ears, smoothing the little laughing lines by her eyes, the pad of his thumb skimming over her lips, causing them to part ever so slightly. The sparkles in her eyes turn into a low burning fire, the gold accents flaming.

"Please," he says before placing his lips on her forehead. "Don't." A kiss on the apple of her cheek. "Make me." And as the finishing touch, he merges their lips.

Emma continues to resist, attempts to keep her willpower strong, but somewhere along the line, she caves (it's after Killian's fingers slide under her sweater and start to draw large circles on her hip). A giggle escapes out of her, the sound vibrant against Killian's lips.

"I love you," Killian says when they sever the connection, making sure that the rest of their bodies are still glued together.

"I love you too," she whispers -or sighs- and she curls her arms even tighter around his neck, ready to resume what they had momentarily put on hold for their umpteenth declaration of love and adoration.

"And I love you too-," another voice interrupts, prompting Emma and Killian startle and to instantly release each other. "-but can we please start this move? Because at this pace, we'll still be unpacking when Christmas comes around." Henry stands with his arms crossed.

"Sorry, Henry," they reply simultaneously, with shame in their voices and a red hue on their cheeks that had nothing to do with the outside cold.

"Reprimanded by my own son," Emma chuckles, noting the reversed roles of the scene.

"Talking about Christmas," Killian says, Henry's words reminding him of something he spent the last couple of days pondering on. "I was thinking we could invite Hazel over. It's going to be her first Christmas without Liam."

It's his first Christmas with the knowledge that his brother is no longer here as well, but at least he has his other true love left, has her and Henry to spend this time of joy with and fill the void. Hazel doesn't.

"That's a great idea," she reacts enthusiastically. "I'm still sad I couldn't get time off work and Henry had school when you went to visit her the last time."

"If she agrees to come in a couple of weeks, you'll all get to meet one another. She can see the café and the States in general during Christmas time."

"And you can tell her about the expansion," Emma adds as she walks back to the forgotten box on the floor.

"I can,' he agrees, following her movements with a piqued interest.

Her hands remove the frames from the box with care before her eyes scan their living room. The sound of her soft hum, the one she always makes when she is thinking, reaches Killian's ears. Her socked feet walk around, stopping before the wall that bears different pictures of her, of different stages of her life. She reaches out, standing on her tiptoes, to take one of them off and hangs Liam there instead. His mother gets a place on a cabinet, a spot where she can smile her beautiful smile at him every day. She finishes by unwrapping his coffeemaker and setting it on the kitchen counter.

A look of pleasantness settles on her face, shapes her lips into a smile as she studies her small changes that seemed all but small to Killian. Their gazes meet and she nods proudly.

Bloody hell, this woman.

"Thank you, Emma."

The words cross his mind often, they did not too long ago, but every now and then, he has to say it out loud. To transmit every feeling of gratitude and love, of respect and acceptance that drenches his bones and fills his heart.

"For what?" She lightly furrows her brow while tilting her head.

"Loving me." His shoulders go up in a slight shrug.

"Oh," she utters, the understanding hitting her. "Well, my pleasure then. It _is_ one of my favorite things to do."

Henry, the teenager that he is, makes a sound akin a grunt, something to remind them of his presence and his distaste of seeing another make-out session.

Emma lights up the room with her laugh and Killian can't help but join her. She rubs over her forehead. "Now, I believe we have some unpacking to do," she says to the contentment of her son, who looks visibly relieved;

Killian grins. "That we do, my love. That we do."

 **And there we go. The end! Quite emotional to end it, because this was the first multi-chapter fic that I ever started writing and I still remember coming up with the idea for my writing week. Even though finishing this story has taken me way (way, way) longer than I originally planned, I am very happy with the way it turned out. Thank you to everyone who has read, followed or reviewed, it has meant more to me that you probably realized while clicking on the button. Au revoir!**

 **(If you'd like to read other stories that I write, be sure to check out Blue Petals & Broken Glass, A Bitter Sweet Memory and my collection of prompts somehow they just keep falling in love)**


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